Beautiful Disaster
by Constance1
Summary: If I can hold on, through the tears and the laughter, would it be beautiful - or just a beautiful disaster? A hurt/comfort in which Harry is determined to help Draco find his place in the world, regardless of what anyone else thinks, and ends up finding relief for his own private suffering. Drarry. Warnings: mild violence, sexual content and angst.
1. September

_Chapter One: September_

In the depths of the Ministry of Magic Headquarters, Harry Potter leaned his flushed forehead against the large glass panel that overlooked Courtroom Ten below. The room behind him was small and barren; with just a few burgundy armchairs lined up along the viewing window and a couple of worn wooden tables bookending them. The previous trial had ended fifteen minutes ago and a small number of Wizengamot members in their distinct plum-coloured robes were still milling about; whispering in small clusters and shooting furtive glances up at the window above their heads.

Harry blinked and turned away; knowing they couldn't see him through the heavily tinted glass but feeling conspicuous none-the-less.

"Harry, are you sure this is the wisest course of action for you right now?"

The weary Gryffindor collapsed into the nearest armchair, his head falling back against the uncomfortably firm backing. "Why do you say _right_ _now_?" he replied with closed eyes, voice heavy with exhaustion.

Arthur Weasley, sitting in the chair to his left, turned to face him with a look of concern on his face. "I just meant that you haven't stopped since defeating You-Know-Who. We're all very impressed by your fortitude Harry, but… don't you think it's time to take a break?"

Harry turned his head and opened one eye. "And why exactly are you encouraging me to take a break today of all days Mr. Weasley?"

Arthur smiled indulgently at the boy whom he would always think of as an unofficial son. "I can't pretend that today doesn't hold any significance in that respect Harry, but you look worn out. Truly you do."

Harry smiled derisively. "I _am_ taking a break; I have the next six months to lay about the house."

Arthur pinned him with a pointed stare. "You know as well as I do that rehabilitating Death Eaters or their families is no easy task; it's hard work and takes constant patience and strength of will. And this is no ordinary case Harry; you have a history with Lucius' son."

Harry sighed and rubbed at tired eyes beneath his glasses. "I know, believe me, if any other willing volunteer had stepped forward, I would have happily passed Malfoy off to them, but no one wanted to take him on. You know as well as I do that Malfoy would not do well at the Centre, so it was either me or Azkaban."

"Then why not Azkaban?"

Harry looked at Mr. Weasley sharply but there was no malice in the familiar gaze, merely curiosity. Harry heaved another heavy sigh, knowing he was going to have to repeat his reasons more than once. "You know why not," he said quietly. "Any Death Eater or Voldemort supporter that hasn't knowingly or actively killed or severely injured another witch or wizard during the war has a chance at redemption. Malfoy and I did not exactly see eye to eye while we were at school together, and he's always been a right prat to me, but, as I said during the trial, I witnessed enough of what he's capable of to know that he doesn't belong in Azkaban with his father."

Mr. Weasley nodded thoughtfully. "Lucius most certainly made his fair share of unforgiveable choices, but his mother saved your life, didn't she?"

"Yes she did."

"And you're hoping that young Draco has enough of his mother in him to make this worth your while?"

"Fingers crossed," Harry replied with a weak smile.

"Well," Arthur exclaimed after a beat, slapping his hands on his knees and getting to his feet. "I wish you all the best Harry. If anyone can get through to him, I believe you can. You know you can visit me and Molly any time you need to get away from Grimmauld Place for a while."

"Of course, thanks Mr. Weasley," Harry said gratefully. Arthur gave his shoulder a quick squeeze before he walked out of the viewing room and headed back to the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office.

Harry exhaled and slid further down in his seat, dropping his head into his hands. It had been a particularly stressful day and the headache that had been steadily simmering between his temples for the past few hours had now burgeoned into a full-on migraine. He knew he should have drunk more water during the trial; the ordeal had been long and tense to say the least.

Harry opened his eyes and peered through his fingers, remembering the look on Malfoy's face when the Chief Warlock had informed him of what was going to happen to him: the Slytherin's expression had remained almost unchanged but for the slight paling of his face and the hardening of grey eyes. He'd half expected Malfoy to speak up and choose Azkaban instead but, in the end, the blond had simply nodded his head in silent acceptance, refusing to make eye contact with Harry.

Harry frowned, absently biting his lip as he began to think about what sort of approach was going to work with Malfoy. He knew he could expect icy silence, bitterness, name calling, and most definitely rage, probably violent outbursts as well, it was just a question of how best to react in order to facilitate Malfoy's eventual release into wizarding society again.

In the fourteen months since the fall of Voldemort and the end of the war, Harry had made a career of helping to rehabilitate the children of Death Eaters; whether the parents were locked away in Azkaban or not. His work entailed undoing years of brainwashing, which was no easy task.

Harry's frown deepened. While Malfoy _was_ technically the son of a Death Eater, he also posed a risk of being a conflict of interest. Malfoy held him in contempt not only from what his parents brought him up to believe but also from his own personal experience. This wasn't just family beliefs and narrow-minded views passed on from parents that he was dealing with this time; this was going to take a lot more work to dispel. Moreover, he would have to set aside his own feelings and be completely professional with Malfoy; he literally held the Slytherin's life in his hands.

Harry shook his head with a muted groan, this was all so complicated. He knew the next six months were probably going to be the toughest and most trying of his new career.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked up to see Auror Bendle standing in the open doorway, one of two Aurors that always assisted him at the onset of a new case. "Hi Johannes, ready for me?" he asked, pushing himself to his feet with great effort and trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his head.

"Are you alright?" Auror Bendle inquired as they strode down the corridor towards the spiral staircase that led back down to level ten.

Harry shot him a quick reassuring smile. "Yeah, long day, that's all."

"I don't imagine you're looking forward to _this_ particular case," Johannes said, looking amused despite his best efforts at trying to maintain a professional exterior.

Harry snorted. "You imagine correctly."

He'd always liked Auror Bendle; the man was very good at his job but didn't take things too seriously. He was a tall wizard of German decent, with dark wavy hair, hazel eyes and never without a pair of unique black framed glasses. The fact that they were close in age also contributed to their easy camaraderie. Johannes' partner, Auror Hipwell, was also very good at his job but a little more introverted and didn't spend much time on idle chit-chat. Both of them treated Harry just like any other wizard though, which he was eternally grateful for.

Harry followed him into the little antechamber adjacent to Courtroom Ten. The small stone-walled room was empty save for a well-used fireplace blackened with soot which was connected to the Floo Network. Harry grabbed a handful of Floo powder, allowing some of the soft cool grains to slip through his fingers soothingly for a moment before stepping into the fireplace.

He took a deep breath, tried not to roll his eyes at Johanne's smirking face, then threw the powder into the flames while simultaneously calling out, "twelve Grimmauld Place!"

He was instantly whirled away in a rush of emerald green flames and deposited into the fireplace in the front drawing room of the old Black residence. He quickly stepped out into the gloomy room and dusted off his robes while waiting for Auror Bendle to appear. Only himself, his two Aurors, and now Malfoy, were keyed into the wards of Grimmauld Place. Even Ron and Hermione were banned from entering the dilapidated house when he had a client residing with him.

Auror Bendle appeared in the fireplace with a great whoosh of air just as Auror Hipwell peered around the doorframe from the entry hall.

"Ah you're here Mr. Potter," he said, looking relieved.

Harry raised his brow at the look of relief on the Auror's face. "Where is he?"

"Kitchen," he replied, inclining his head to the right.

Harry stepped past him and strode down the hall towards the narrow staircase that led down to the kitchen. He quickly clamped down on the anxiety that began to bloom in his gut at what lay ahead of him and forced himself to think of Malfoy as just another faceless wizard that needed his help - whether he wanted it or not.

He sensed rather than heard his two Aurors hot on his heels behind him as he descended the stairs and entered the large galley-style kitchen. His gaze quickly landed on the figure seated on the opposite side of the dusty table from him. Harry took in the stiff posture, crossed arms and furious expression in less than one second and instantly switched into 'psychoanalyst mode.'

"Hi Draco," he greeted quietly and without inflection. He had decided after the trial to address Malfoy by his first name as a means of distancing the present situation from their tumultuous Hogwarts relationship as much as possible. The name felt very strange on his tongue indeed.

Malfoy kept his steely gaze glued to Harry's face but made no move to speak or acknowledge him in any way.

Harry met his gaze unwaveringly for a moment before turning to the two silent Aurors behind him. His eyes widened slightly when he saw that both of them had their wands drawn and at the ready by their sides. "If you guys want to secure the house and set up the fields now, I think we'll be alright here."

They both nodded, eyes flicking to Malfoy for a lingering moment before turning to head back to the front entryway. Harry took a quick steadying breath before turning back around and stepping further into the room.

"Mind if I sit down?" Harry asked, pointing at the chair opposite his new charge.

The thinning of lips and flaring of nostrils was the only indication that Malfoy had even heard him.

"Or I can stand." Harry smiled benignly and rested his hands on the back of the chair. "Either way, we're going to make an attempt at conversation. There are a few things I need to tell you, and I'm sure you have loads of questions for me." Harry paused and he could practically hear Malfoy's teeth grinding together. "Things would go a lot smoother if you just accepted the situation and moved on," he added, hoping his words might provoke a reaction.

Grey eyes narrowed and Harry saw them flicker almost imperceptibly to the corridor over Harry's shoulder. He instantly knew that Malfoy was waiting for the Aurors to be out of earshot before venturing any sort of response.

Harry kept his smile firmly in place as he decided to drop into the chair uninvited. "They're going to be at it for a while so I might as well make myself comfortable and tell you a few things while we wait," he said calmly. The Slytherin's gaze instantly slid from Harry's face to stare fixedly at a point off to his left. Harry continued, unperturbed. "The Aurors are setting up some security measures that you should know about. Firstly, there will be a magical dampening field over the entire household. Meaning, neither you nor anyone else within the walls of this house will be able to perform magic. Everything must be done the Muggle way," he couldn't help adding. "The Floo will be disconnected from the Network shortly and the only way in and out will be the front door." Harry took a breath and plunged on. "The front door will not open for you. While I can come and go as I please, no one else may enter the house other than me and the two Aurors you saw earlier."

Harry paused and eyed Malfoy speculatively, allowing him time to speak if he so wished. He took a moment to look over Malfoy's appearance while the blond's gaze was diverted. He was dressed in finely tailored clothing; charcoal grey wool trousers, white button-up shirt and black overcoat that looked like it cost more than Harry's entire wardrobe put together. Malfoy's gleaming blond hair was neat and tidy but he couldn't hide the dark circles beneath those guarded grey eyes. His cheeks were also slightly hollower than Harry suspected they would be if the man was in perfect health.

Finally the blond head turned towards him, expression very carefully controlled. "What makes you qualified for this job Potter?" he asked, voice fraught with tension.

"Experience," Harry replied simply, watching him.

The slight lip curl of disdain instantly transported Harry back to their time at Hogwarts and he wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

"I'm also completing studies in Developmental Psychology," Harry added, a part of him wanting Malfoy to know that this wasn't just some hobby he was trying out for amusement.

The resulting flash of mingled fury and contempt in Malfoy's eyes was sharp and swift. Harry could have kicked himself for his idiocy; for mentioning the fact that he'd been free to follow a career and study while Malfoy had been stuck in limbo with the Ministry. He had to keep reminding himself that this was _Malfoy,_ and that everything between the two of them was, and always had been, a competition.

Harry cleared his throat and the wooden chair beneath him creaked as he shifted uncomfortably. "So… any other questions?" he asked.

The contempt remained in the grey eyes as Malfoy glared at him. "Yes," he practically hissed, "where do I lodge a formal complaint?"

"What about?" Harry asked with a slight frown.

"About how the Ministry saw fit to put my life in the hands of Harry-fucking-Potter."

Harry swallowed and wished he had a headache potion to drown out the throbbing in his head; it was making it hard to concentrate, and keeping on his toes was imperative when dealing with Malfoy. "Look, I know this situation isn't ideal, I tried to get someone else to take your case but…" he trailed off, realising that there wasn't a way to finish that sentence without insulting him.

Malfoy's jaw clenched as he held Harry's gaze. "This is fucking absurd; the Ministry is letting you swan about pretending to be some sort of _therapist_ just because you're the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry dropped his pleasant let's-let-bygones-be-bygones attitude and decided to be straightforward. "Yeah, you're right. I would never have gotten this position so quickly if I _wasn't_ Harry-fucking-Potter," he replied candidly. "But that doesn't mean that I don't know what I'm doing or that I don't care. The Ministry didn't force me into this, I _asked_ for it. This is what I want to do."

"You _want_ to help Death Eaters?" Draco replied with icy cynicism.

"I want to help innocent people, yes," Harry said with a shrug. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes, it is," he returned tersely. "You didn't help my father."

"Your father…?" Harry's lips parted in surprise. "He wasn't innocent."

Malfoy's eyes flashed dangerously. "And _I_ am?"

Harry frowned; he was much too exhausted for verbal sparring of this magnitude. "Yes I think you are," he informed him with stubborn conviction.

Grey eyes narrowed, calculating. "You do realise just how fucked up this is, don't you Potter?"

"How so?" Harry responded, just managing to hold back a weary sigh at Malfoy's dizzying changes in topics.

"You're allowing the Ministry to essentially lock me up against my will, no contact with the outside world, for six fucking months! How is that any more civilised than something the Dark Lord would do?"

Harry rubbed his temple absently, he suspected his brain was now trying to pound its way out of his skull. "You can have visitors at a later stage Malfoy," he replied, unconsciously slipping back to the use of his surname. "And with regards to your incarceration, as you put it, that was the only way the Ministry would allow any witch or wizard related to a Death Eater back into society while appeasing the general public at the same time. Some thought all Death Eaters and their families should've just been thrown into Azkaban, no questions asked. This way, while perhaps not the most humane, was the _only_ way."

"And I should be grateful for it?" Malfoy snapped.

"Yeah you should," Harry couldn't help snapping back, and then he sighed and shook his head slightly. "How about I give you a tour of the place?" he said, attempting to regain his composure.

Malfoy glared at him and Harry watched as the angry heat in his eyes faded to cool indifference. "Just show me to my room," he finally replied.

" _Please_ ," Harry muttered under his breath as he got to his feet. How was it that Malfoy was able to provoke an emotional response out of him in less than five minutes? It was as though the last fourteen months of growth and experience had been suddenly and equivocally thrown out the window.

"This way." Harry quickly turned and headed up the stairs, not waiting to see if Malfoy was following him or not. He could feel his face flushing as he walked; this was not a good start. Regardless of the fact that Malfoy was asking to see his room, Harry knew that the Slytherin was in no way close to accepting the situation; the argument was clearly not over. _Only one hundred and seventy-nine days to go_ , he thought sardonically.

He entered the front hallway to see his two Aurors finishing up some wand work on the front door. They both turned at Harry's entrance; eyes flicking from Harry's tense expression to something over his shoulder and he knew that Malfoy had indeed decided to follow him.

"Everything okay Mr. Potter?" Johannes asked, assessing Malfoy with a cool stare.

Harry forced a quick smile and nodded. "Just showing Mr. Malfoy his room," he explained.

"I'll accompany you." And Harry knew the statement brooked no argument.

Harry glanced behind him as he rounded the top of the staircase on the second floor. Malfoy was a few steps behind with Auror Bendle bringing up the rear; intense gaze trained to the back of Malfoy's head and wand in hand. A wry smile pulled at Harry's lips as he turned back around and proceeded to the third floor.

He pushed open the door of the master suite and glanced in at the worn furnishings, bracing himself for what was sure to be an onslaught of haughty disdain from Malfoy about the state of his lodgings.

The tall blond merely strode past, back straight, and slammed the door shut without so much as a backwards glance at either of them.

"Charming," Johannes concluded with a raised brow.

Harry removed his glasses to rub at dry eyes. "Yeah well, that's Malfoy for you; pureblood manners and all that rot."

Auror Bendle smiled in amusement and sheathed his wand as he turned away from the closed door. "We have more work to do, are you going to be alright?"

Harry nodded as he replaced his glasses back on his nose. "I think I'm going to have a quick lie down actually."

Johannes nodded and followed Harry back down to the second floor where Harry's bedroom was located, directly underneath the master suite; a simple, non-magical way to listen to what his charge was up to during the night.

"I'll let you know when we're finished," Johannes said as Harry paused in the open doorway of his room. "All of His Highness' belongings were brought up to his room so hopefully he won't grace us with his presence again today."

"You don't like him much do you?" Harry noted interestedly.

"I don't trust him," the Auror replied simply before turning away and heading back down the stairs to his partner.

Harry shut the door to his room and leaned back against it, exhaling heavily. After a minute of steady breathing with eyes shut, he pushed himself off of the door and strode over to his bed, removing his glasses as he went and dropping them to the small bedside table before flopping back onto his bed, the surface of which was a tangled mess of twisted sheets.

Harry threw an arm over his eyes and emitted a quiet moan as he replayed his conversation with Malfoy over again. How could things have fallen apart so quickly? He thought he'd been mentally prepared for Malfoy's attacks, and really, the man had some valid points. So why couldn't Harry have kept it together and calmly answered each question?

It was _his job_ to re-educate Death Eater children about letting go of the past and opening up their minds to a different world than the one they thought they knew - and he couldn't even do it himself!

Harry removed his arm and looked up at the ceiling, listening to the muted creaking of the floorboards as Malfoy moved about his room. The Slytherin was obviously checking out his new accommodation as his footsteps meandered around the perimeter of the room and over to the window; which Harry knew for a fact was coated in grime and could barely be called a window any more. The footsteps retreated back to the centre of the room and Harry heard the distant sound of mattress springs squeaking as the man sat on the bed, then silence.

Harry rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes.

 **. . . .**

Harry shut the front door behind his two Aurors and listened to the loud click and sudden humming of the security charms with satisfaction. Everything was now in place; all he had to do was live in this house with Draco Malfoy for the next six months and hope that they didn't kill each other.

After glancing at the empty stairway, Harry turned and wandered into the kitchen to find something for dinner. He began to feel a familiar sense of routine wash over him as he put together a sandwich, ears perked for any sounds that may come from above. Every first day always began the same: client was brought into the house, was angry, silent or just plain uncooperative, and then locked themselves away in their bedroom for as long as they could hold out for without food or drink. They were usually downstairs by morning.

Harry upended a bag of crisps onto his plate beside the ham sandwich and settled in at the long empty table to begin munching on his meal. He had thought about keeping a house-elf for extra help and protection at Grimmauld Place but had quickly discarded the idea. He liked that it was just the two of them, it felt fairer; as though he was putting himself on equal footing with his "guest." Some people, namely Hermione, thought he was foolish and taking unnecessary risks with his safety.

Harry paused in his chewing when he thought he heard a noise from the direction of the front hallway. Surely Malfoy wasn't venturing out of his room already?

He couldn't help but smirk when he heard the quick indrawn breath and quiet swearing, indicating that Malfoy had attempted to touch the front door.

Harry carefully smoothed his expression and continued to eat his meal nonchalantly, waiting for his charge to appear.

He didn't have to wait long.

Malfoy stalked into view around the doorframe, scowl firmly in place and one hand absently rubbing his right palm, which was no doubt still prickling from the attempted security breach. He stopped upon seeing Harry and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Hungry?" Harry asked, breaking the silence as he placed his sandwich back down on his plate.

Haughty grey eyes flicked to his paltry meal and Malfoy's mouth immediately sneered in distaste. "No."

"Suit yourself." Harry shrugged, but kept his eyes on the blond as he continued to stand, watching him eat.

With a much put-upon sigh, Malfoy entered the kitchen and slowly perched on one of the empty chairs on the opposite side of the table to Harry. The blond swallowed and seemed to be searching for the right words - or perhaps attempting to control his temper. Harry waited patiently, popping another salty crisp into his mouth and crunching.

"It would seem that I… have a few more questions," he began, sounding extremely reluctant and looking as though he was loathing every minute of being in Harry's company.

"Fire away," Harry replied.

Grey eyes immediately darted to his face. "It would help the situation if you stopped being so fucking chirpy Potter," he ground out.

Harry blinked in surprise. "Sorry," he replied, "I'll try to rein that in." He refused to give in to the smile that twitched at his lips.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes but refrained from further comment. "Since you and the Ministry are determined to keep me caged here for the next six months, I assume there will be some sort of schedule to follow?"

"Not really." Harry absently licked the salt from his fingers as he answered. "I will sit down with you at least once a day for a session but the rest of the time is yours to do with as you wish."

For some reason this only seemed to incense the Slytherin, and Harry thought he caught a flash of… panic?

"And you don't expect me to go mad?" Malfoy demanded.

"Mad with… too much free time?"

He sighed in irritation and ran an errant hand through his hair before looking back at Harry. "Yes, you nitwit, am I supposed to just sit and stare at the wall for the rest of the sixteen hours a day not filled with sleeping or sitting on your bloody therapy couch?"

"Well no," Harry replied with a frown. "There's a library full of books you're welcome to explore."

"And?"

Harry raised his brow and glanced around as though searching for inspiration.

Malfoy made a sound of impatience and clenched his hands around the edge of the worn table. "Well, what do you do here when you don't have patients Potter?" he asked as though speaking to a toddler.

"You're not a patient," Harry replied automatically. "I dunno, I… study and… eat."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Thrilling," he bit out.

Harry's answering smile was bitter. "I don't _want_ thrilling in my life anymore."

Grey eyes stared at him intently for a moment then shifted away. "And what, pray tell, will my therapy sessions comprise of?" he asked instead.

Harry dusted his hands of crumbs and pushed his plate towards the centre of the table, leaving the rest of his crisps for Malfoy to take if he so wished, which he highly doubted.

"Talking," he replied vaguely, placing his forearms on the table and leaning on them. "I need to assess your mental state."

" _You_ are going to assess my mental state?" he repeated caustically, bringing his gaze back to Harry's face with one finely arched brow. "The man who was connected to a psychotic madman, talked to snakes and had fits in the middle of class?"

"Yes, the very same," Harry quipped, holding his gaze.

"Fucking Ministry," Malfoy murmured under his breath, but not so quiet that Harry didn't catch it. "And if you deem me to be mentally unstable, what then?"

"It's not quite as simple as all that but, Azkaban. Essentially."

Malfoy's lips thinned, grey eyes darkening with condemnation. "You must love this Potter; holding my life in your hands."

"Actually I don't," Harry refuted swiftly. "I don't want you to go to Azkaban, I don't think you belong there Draco."

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"What? Your given name or that I think you're a good person?"

"Both!" he snapped.

Harry averted his gaze and took a breath, refusing to be caught up in Malfoy's emotional frustration this time. "I want to use your name because I never did at Hogwarts and I'm not the same person I was back then and neither are you." He paused as he lifted his steady gaze back to Malfoy's face. "And you _are_ a good person; you couldn't murder a man, not even to save your own life."

Malfoy held his gaze, grey eyes full of too many emotions for Harry to pinpoint any single one. "Perhaps not, but you don't know half the things I did for him. Believe me, I am not a good person Potter."

Harry tilted his head to one side thoughtfully. "Why are you trying to convince me that you're evil? You already called Voldemort a psychotic madman, so I know you didn't believe in him or his cause. I imagine you did what was necessary to survive, just like dozens of others, just like Snape."

"What about what I did to _you_ Potter?" he replied. "I broke your nose and left you for dead on the train, I tried to get you expelled and in trouble more times than I can count…"

Harry smiled grimly. "Sectumsempra," he countered simply.

The blond paused for only a fraction of a second and then, "I let Death Eaters into the castle; they could have killed you or taken you to the Dark Lord. Everything could have ended differently."

Harry nodded slowly. "Yes I suppose that's true but that wasn't your intent, it would've been an accident."

Malfoy roughly shoved a hand through his hair again, the loosened strands now falling around his strained expression.

Harry frowned, wondering why Malfoy was pushing the issue. Did he not think he was worthy of saving? Of being allowed to live a normal life once more? He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. "You went to trial Draco, the Wizengamot agreed that you were not an immediate threat and that you should have a chance at a normal life. Believe me when I say that the same courtesy is not granted to every witch or wizard who appears before them."

Malfoy lifted his face, grey eyes peering out at him from between strands of platinum blond. "And do you fight for all of them?" he asked, hostile tone slightly softened for the first time.

"No, just the ones I know are deserving of a second chance," Harry replied honestly.

"And how many of those have there been?" he asked pointedly.

"You're the second."

"And why didn't you send me to your _Saviour Centre_?" Malfoy pressed, unable to mask the interest in his tone even as he held tight to his expression of derision.

Harry surprised himself by chuckling. "You know, I actually prefer that name. It was the Minister's idea to use my bloody name in the title and I just went along with it so that they would be supportive of the project."

Malfoy sat back in his chair, absently pushing his hair back into place and looking slightly less tense.

"I prefer to just call it The Centre," Harry continued, "and I didn't recommend you for that facility because you don't belong there."

"Why?"

The Slytherin's tone was blatantly curious now and Harry was compelled to answer truthfully. "Because I didn't think that you would be treated fairly."

Malfoy frowned slightly, a tiny crease appearing between knitted brows. "How so?"

Harry shifted in his seat, his backside beginning to ache from sitting on such a hard surface for so long. "Because while the staff is a well-educated group, they are still human and prone to-"

"Prejudice?" he inserted perceptively.

Harry nodded. "For the most part they are completely impartial, but when it comes to some of the more well-known Death Eater families, I fear they fall a bit short of being completely neutral. Human nature, I suppose."

Grey eyes narrowed and the tension was back in an instant. "Wouldn't that mean their biased treatment would affect the patient's outcome?"

"It would if I let people at risk go there. That's why I run treatment out of my home as well," Harry explained and then sighed. "I know it's not a perfect system but it's all we have."

Malfoy fell into a thoughtful silence, a frown still marring his pale face. Harry subtly shifted in his seat once more, not wanting to end their first civil conversation just yet. Malfoy's willingness to talk to him was completely unexpected.

"Are you not human Potter?"

Harry blinked. "What?"

Malfoy looked up with narrowed eyes but Harry thought he saw a hint of a smirk in there somewhere. The Slytherin suddenly stood up, fingertips just brushing the top of the table as he stood looking down on Harry. "If it's human nature to succumb to bouts of prejudice, then why don't _you_?"

Harry watched as Malfoy turned and left the room without another word.

He shook his head, not quite able to comprehend what had just happened. He reached forward and pulled his plate back towards him along the dusty surface of the table, leaving a clear trail on the dark wood in its wake. He scooped the remainder of the crisps into one hand and munched on them as he replayed their conversation over again in his head, storing away the interesting and helpful tidbits that Malfoy had unwittingly divulged about himself for further dissection.

 **. . . .**

Early the next morning, Harry was once more in the kitchen, finishing off his breakfast and downing a tall glass of orange juice. He hadn't heard a sound yet from Malfoy's room and he wondered if the blond was a late sleeper or if he had regressed back to spiteful avoidance.

Harry set his dirty dishes in the sink then wandered into the ground floor library to do some studying while he waited.

Two hours later and the Slytherin had yet to make his move. Harry flipped his textbook shut with a sigh and stretched his aching neck. Malfoy was either the most patient strategist he'd ever seen - or the most stubborn. Harry suspected it was the latter.

He decided to initiate first contact himself and rose from the table, heading straight to the third floor master suite and knocking on the door. The door could be locked from the inside but Harry always made a point of knocking and waiting, even though he had the key on a thin chain around his neck, hidden away under his jumper. The key was in fact a master key that would open any door at Grimmauld Place - bar the magically sealed front entrance.

"What?" came the irritated response.

"Everything alright?" Harry asked through the door, disappointed but not surprised that the Slytherin had reverted back to his defensive mechanisms. "Draco?" he called when there was no answer forthcoming.

"Yes Potter, everything is bloody rainbows and butterflies in here," he drawled witheringly.

Harry couldn't help but smile in amusement. He was used to anger and rage from his clients, not disparaging sarcasm. He wasn't so naive as to think that it was anything other than a cover for whatever emotions were lurking beneath, but it still made a refreshing change. "You must be starving, why don't you come get some breakfast?"

There was a pause and then the sound of the door unlocking. Sharp grey eyes peered out through a small crack in the door. "Do you have any decent coffee in this godforsaken place Potter?"

"Uhh… not sure, I'm more of a tea drinker," he replied with a shrug. "I can pick some up for you if you wish, just let me know what kind."

Malfoy sighed and opened the door a little further, keeping one hand on the doorframe.

"Have you been… _cleaning_?" Harry exclaimed, green eyes widening in shock behind his glasses as he took in the tidy bedroom behind the ill-tempered blond.

"Focus Potter!" Malfoy demanded, snapping his fingers in front of Harry's face.

Harry flinched and his startled gaze flew back to Malfoy's aggravated expression.

"Cof-fee," he said slowly. "TAP. Rathbone Place. Kiriaini blend."

"Am I meant to understand any part of that?" Harry finally replied when there was no further clarification.

Grey eyes flared with annoyance.

Harry sighed and withdrew a small notepad and pencil from his pocket. He paused with the pencil poised over the paper and waited silently, gaze flicking back to Malfoy's face expectantly.

The fractious Slytherin repeated himself through clenched teeth and Harry jotted it down in his messy scrawl.

"What is-" Harry began to ask but the door was promptly shut in his face and locked. He barely controlled the impulse to kick it and forced himself to turn away and walk down the stairs.

Harry slipped the notepad and pencil back into his pocket and grabbed his coat from next to the front door. He needed some air - and clearly Malfoy needed some caffeine.

Harry slipped through the front entrance, listening to the wards seal behind him as he walked up the footpath. He didn't normally like to leave a client alone in the house so early on in their treatment but it was clearly an emergency and he promised himself that he wouldn't be long. The security wards prevented self-harm, so he knew Malfoy couldn't get into _too_ much mischief without him.

 **. . . .**

"And then he just slammed the door in my face!"

Hermione bit back the 'I told you so' on the tip of her tongue and merely nodded. "What did you think was going to happen Harry?" she asked instead. "I mean, it's _Malfoy_. Did you really expect him to be amenable to the situation?"

Harry sighed and side-stepped the rather plump woman walking up the footpath in the opposite direction. After he'd left the house, he'd called in on Hermione at the Ministry to see if she felt like taking a walk with him. Thankfully she was able to interpret Malfoy's coded message and they were currently off to a coffee shop called TAP in central London for the blond's specialised coffee.

"No, not really," he replied. "Last night he seemed… _willing_ to cooperate though. The potential was definitely there."

Hermione slipped her hands into the pockets of her moss-green Muggle coat to help ward off the early September chill in the air. "I just can't help thinking that there's too much bad blood between the two of you for this to work out," she said hesitantly. "You're brilliant at your job Harry, but…"

"It's Malfoy?" Harry supplied sourly.

She tucked a couple of wayward strands of curly hair behind her ear as she glanced sideways at her best friend. "You can't be offended Harry, he's not at all like any patient you've had so far."

"They're not patients," Harry corrected automatically. "He's still the son of a Death Eater who has an inborn hatred of all things Harry Potter, so in the grand scheme of things, it shouldn't be any different. I think the problem lies with me; I think I just need to find a way to forget that I ever knew him before yesterday."

"Good luck with that," Hermione said with a laugh.

Harry snorted at her amused expression and shook his head.

"Does he look the same?" she asked curiously after a few minutes of silence.

"Er… yes and no," he finally replied. "He still pulls the same irritating expressions, but he definitely looks older. And he's not quite as immature as he used to be, more controlled with his emotions. Which is probably a bad thing," he surmised despondently. He didn't mention the fact that Malfoy had a dark circles under his eyes or that he was a little bit on the thin side.

"I still can't believe you took him on," Hermione said, not for the first time, as they stepped into the warmth of TAP Coffee together.

Harry noted that all the other patrons wore the same sort of expensive clothing that Malfoy had been wearing last night and he wondered why he didn't fully appreciate earlier that it was of Muggle origin.

"I mean, you and Malfoy are going to be living together for _six_ _months_ ," she emphasized as they joined the queue. "I'm worried about your safety Harry. Are you so sure he's not going to try something?"

Harry turned to her. "No I don't think he will, and if he does," he added as an after-thought, "then he doesn't deserve my help and he can rot in Azkaban with his father. But he _does_ deserve a second chance. Even you have to admit that 'Mione."

Hermione pursed her lips and glanced up at the wooden menu board above their heads. "Yes, I suppose he does," she agreed grudgingly. "You'll never catch Ron admitting to that though."

Harry grinned at her as they stepped up to the register to place their order.

Twenty minutes later, Harry walked out of the café with a paper carrier bag full of ground Kiriaini coffee, a new shiny aluminum Cafetiere and a fancy milk frother.

"Know what the strangest part of this has been so far?" Harry asked as they walked back towards the Ministry building together.

"Hmm?"

"I decided to call him by his first name while we're living under the same roof and it's bloody awkward."

Hermione laughed. "I bet it really annoys him."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah I think it does, but I can't stop now, I'll look completely inept."

They both smiled as they fell into an easy silence as they maneuvered the busy London streets.

"Well, good luck Harry," Hermione said sincerely once they'd arrived back at the red phone box. "You know you can vent to me any time you need to." She paused, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth, loose strands of spiralled hair blowing across her face in the cool breeze. "I hope you realize how messy this is going to get," she said, suddenly solemn.

"Messy?" Harry repeated with a frown.

"Yes, messy," she stressed. "It's going to be emotional and challenging - and not just for Malfoy. I feel… I feel like this case is going to change you Harry."

Harry smiled fondly at his friend, tucking his free hand into his pocket. "Impossible, I won't ever change," he promised affably. "I know it's going to be difficult though, I'm not _that_ deluded."

Hermione forced a smile and nodded. "Be careful," she stated simply before turning and walking into the old red phone box.

Harry waved her off before heading to the nearest Apparation Point.

"Draco?" Harry called out as he entered the house, paper carrier bag still clutched in one hand and the string beginning to press uncomfortably into his skin from the weight of it. "I've got your coffee."

He closed the door behind him and kicked off his grubby trainers, hoping the promise of caffeine would be enough to lure the Slytherin out of his room. He'd refused Hermione's lesson on how to make coffee with his fancy new equipment in order to leave the teaching to Malfoy; something he hoped would help slide the scale back towards middle ground between the two of them. If Malfoy could teach him a thing or two during his stay then maybe he wouldn't be so averse to allowing Harry to do the same in return.

He hoped.

"It's about time Potter."

Harry looked up to see Malfoy striding down the stairs towards him, glower firmly in place. "I wasn't even gone an hour," Harry replied, bemused. He pulled the bag in towards his body when Malfoy reached for it. "Mind showing me how to use this stuff?" he asked congenially.

Malfoy merely glared at him a moment, clearly waging some sort of internal struggle. "Fine," he finally said, jaw clenched as he held out his hand for the bag once more.

Harry handed it over and followed the tall blond down the hallway into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter and watched as Malfoy grabbed a spare rag and wiped down the dusty counter before unpacking the carrier bag and methodically setting everything out on the cleaned surface.

"Why don't you have a house-elf?" Malfoy demanded impertinently.

"Don't need one," Harry replied with shrug.

Malfoy levelled him with a pointed stare before continuing to remove the packaging from the Cafetiere. "Yes you do Potter; you're an absolute slob and somehow you have no idea how disgusting this place is. It isn't fit for human habitation. I cannot believe you use this place as a business _,_ let alone your home, and allow it to be this revolting."

Harry sunk his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from flinging back the defensive retort that was on the tip of his tongue.

Malfoy glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he opened the ground coffee. "Why don't you say whatever it is you're thinking Potter?" he goaded.

Harry swallowed and counted to ten before replying. "How about you just show me how to make your pretentious coffee?"

The Slytherin made no response as he filled the bottom tank of the Cafetiere with water then measured out the finely ground coffee.

Harry had to count to ten again as Malfoy continued to work without giving Harry the benefit of any further instruction. "How much do you put in?" Harry finally asked stiffly.

He balled his hands into fists when there was no answer forthcoming. He could feel the angry flush working its way up his neck as he stood there staring at the smug blond, willing him to just fucking cooperate for once in his life.

"Oh for fuck's sake Malfoy!" he finally exploded, turning away from the counter and flinging his arms up in the air in a helpless gesture of defeat.

"Is there a problem Potter?" Malfoy asked with a smirk, calmly placing the shiny Cafetiere onto the hob and igniting the gas beneath it.

"I don't know if it's escaped your notice Malfoy," Harry retorted furiously, "but you have to spend the next six months in this house with me, so why the fuck would you make this more miserable than it has to be?"

Malfoy leaned his hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, expression darkening. "What did you expect would happen Potter?" he replied coldly. "That I would show you how to brew espresso and then we would become best friends over a cuppa? What kind of therapist expects miracles in less than twenty-four hours?"

Harry's green eyes flashed dangerously. "One that holds your life in his hands."

Steel grey eyes widened in outrage and he took a step towards Harry before suddenly turning and striding from the room.

Harry let him go, collapsing back against the table as all the fight drained from his body. "I can't do this…" he muttered, shaking his head. _Why did I ever think I could do this? Hermione was right; there_ _ **is**_ _too much bad blood between us for this to work._

Harry startled out of his gloomy thoughts when the Cafetiere began to rattle threateningly. He quickly lifted it from the hob and shut off the gas.

He stood staring down at his distorted image in the shiny aluminium lid; inhaling the aroma of freshly brewed espresso and thinking hard.

 _I'm not a quitter. I'm better than this, I'm not going to let school yard rivalries interfere with giving a man his freedom, no matter_ _ **who**_ _it is. Just because he's a royal pain in the arse and an absolute prat does not make him a bad person unworthy of a life of his own after the war._

Harry straightened his shoulders and grasped the Cafetiere in one hand before walking out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the third floor.

He took a steadying breath before knocking swiftly on Malfoy's bedroom door. He was surprised when it opened after the first knock and the blond stared warily out at him through the crack in the door.

"I'm sorry," Harry said in a rush, "I shouldn't have said that."

Malfoy merely stared at him impassively for a moment before dropping his gaze to the steaming Cafetiere in Harry's hand.

"You forgot your coffee," Harry stated needlessly.

Malfoy sighed and dragged his gaze back up to meet Harry's. "It's not coffee yet Potter," he finally said, and then opened his door further.

Harry smiled hesitantly and stepped aside, allowing Malfoy to lead the way back down to the kitchen to resume the lesson.


	2. October

_Chapter Two: October_

By the time October rolled around, Harry had learned three very important facts about Draco Malfoy: he should never be spoken to before his first coffee of the day; he cannot tolerate idleness and; he intensely detests talking about himself.

The first two facts Harry could live with - the third fact was a lot harder to handle, especially seeing as how part of Harry's role was to, in fact, get the blond to delve into his deepest and darkest emotions.

"I don't know what you want me to say Potter," Malfoy said scornfully, "I was never abused by my family. Do you want me to make up pretty little lies so that I'll neatly fit into your therapist box of textbook mental cases?"

Harry barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes as he absently tucked one leg underneath himself. They were currently in the ground floor study, sitting across from one another in the large overstuffed green armchairs, surrounded by tall shelves filled with row upon row of dusty old tomes. This was only their fourth session together. Things had still been so stilted and tense between the two of them that Harry thought it best to start with just one session a week until the tension had eased and Malfoy felt more open to communicate. The coffee lesson had gone smoothly enough but ever since then Malfoy had retreated back into himself, only speaking when spoken to and never initiating any sort of contact or discussion with Harry.

Harry allowed the other man his space, knowing that he was going to have to tailor this case to best suit Malfoy's needs. He knew it wasn't healthy but silence was a lot easier to cope with than intense quarrelling.

For now.

"I don't want you to say anything other than the truth," Harry replied. "There's no such thing as _textbook_ Draco; there are parallels that can be drawn from similar histories of mistreatment that attribute to present day emotional manifestations but that's all."

"Stunning memorisation skills Potter," he sneered.

Harry forced a tight smile. "Actually I came up with that all by myself."

"Oh well, bravo."

Harry employed his method of counting to five as he glanced down at his notepad and took a deep breath. Every session so far had been the same; try to draw Malfoy into a meaningful conversation and the Slytherin would avoid, avoid, avoid or attack Harry with disparaging remarks about his career or his personality. Harry noted that, other than his first night there, Malfoy had avoided mentioning Hogwarts or their shared past at all costs.

"You know there are other types of abuse rather than just the physical right?" Harry continued calmly, looking back up at him.

Malfoy sighed as he crossed one leg over the other, but Harry saw the slight clenching of those long fingers on the arms of his chair. "You are far too green for this Potter; all you know are textbook platitudes. You can't honestly say that this rubbish has worked on any of the people who have sat in this chair, can you?"

Harry cocked his head to one side, absently chewing the end of his pencil. "Yeah it has - every single one of them in fact."

"Then they were fools, or they were lying to you," came the sharp reply.

Harry licked his lips and decided to change his approach. He dropped his notepad and pencil to the floor and drew his other leg up to sit cross-legged on the wide chair, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. "Alright then, what _will_ work for you?" he asked bluntly. "What can I do to make you forget who I am and get you to open up to me about what it is that's going on in your head?"

Grey eyes widened ever so slightly and a small burst of triumph flared in Harry's chest. Alright, so the blond responded to uncompromising honesty and the unexpected.

"Polyjuice?" Malfoy quipped, quickly recovering his act of indifference.

Harry shook his head. "Not going to happen."

Malfoy stared at him a moment, deliberating. "How about you agree to stop calling me by my first name?"

Harry instantly detected the gravity behind the suggestion. "Done," he swiftly agreed.

"Good." Malfoy nodded, looking faintly relieved.

"Anything else?" Harry asked, leaning back in his chair and pushing his glasses back up on his nose.

The sombre blond dropped his gaze and absently plucked at some non-existent lint on his trousers. "Give me something to do," he said quietly.

"What?"

He looked up to meet Harry's questioning gaze. "Give me something to do - a task - or I shall go mad Potter."

Understanding dawned on Harry's face. "Yes, of course, I've noticed how you've er… cleaned your room and the kitchen. Thanks," he added awkwardly as an afterthought. "Uh… actually I've been thinking about what you said before, about how this place could use a little… fixing up, and I thought maybe I could start renovating it. Make it a little more modern and…"

"Liveable?"

Harry glanced up but Malfoy's expression wasn't mocking. "Yeah, so maybe you'd like to help or offer some suggestions?" he continued smoothly.

Malfoy clasped his hands together on his lap and his expression was almost serene as he appeared to become lost in thought. "I suppose I could lend my talents to this… hovel," he finally drawled.

Harry's answering smile was tentative but inside he was leaping for joy; this was the first time Malfoy had actually looked somewhat relaxed since coming to Grimmauld Place. "Great!" He leaned down and plucked his notepad and pencil from the floor. "Where do you want to start?"

Malfoy raised a brow in surprise. "Right now? What about the rest of my head examining session?"

Harry grinned and pushed himself out of his chair. "We can pick it up again another time, come on."

"What did I say about being chirpy Potter?" Malfoy muttered as he uncrossed long legs and got to his feet.

Harry thought he heard a hint of teasing in the Slytherin's dry tone and wondered if perhaps Malfoy was feeling a little brighter at the prospect of a tangible project to do. Harry couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner; it seemed like the perfect solution.

Harry led the way out of the library into the entrance foyer and stopped. He looked around the dim and gloomy space with a furrowed brow, wondering just where to begin with such a monumental task. He glanced at Malfoy. "I have no idea what I'm doing so… where do you start?"

"And you think _I_ do?" Malfoy replied, crossing his arms over his chest and returning Harry's gaze with an arched brow.

Harry's eyes flicked over the blond's impeccable appearance before he replied. "Well yeah, you're all… put together, and stuff."

Malfoy's lips twitched with perhaps the first hint of a smile that Harry had witnessed. "Very eloquent Potter."

Harry just smiled and raised his notepad and pencil. "Alright, so… new wallpaper?"

Malfoy gazed at him a moment; clearly torn between undertaking something that would help Harry and welcoming something to occupy his time. He turned away and looked around the dismal entryway, eyes narrowing in thought. He slowly turned a full circle, arms still crossed over his chest, as he took in everything from the peeling wallpaper to the threadbare carpet. "I would replace the wallpaper with paint and perhaps some decorative wood paneling-" he finally said reflectively.

Harry began to scribble everything down.

"-and rip up the carpet to see what sort of boards are underneath. You may be able to polish up the existing if it they're acceptable."

Harry nodded and continued to write, his pencil furiously scratching across the white lined notepaper.

"The wooden handrail is fairly decent so it would just need a good clean," Malfoy continued with a discerning eye. "That chandelier needs to be removed completely, but I would keep the gas lights, they have a certain charm to them that's probably worth keeping. That hideous umbrella stand that looks like it's part of the decaying body of a mountain troll, absolutely needs to go. And what, pray tell, are all those blast marks from?"

Harry looked up from his writing with a confused frown until he caught sight of the burn marks that decorated the walls. "Er… I had to remove a large screaming portrait and, um, a bunch of plaques that held decapitated house-elf heads." Harry stopped and smiled uneasily. "The Blacks weren't exactly a family of saints."

"Yes, I am well acquainted with the Black family tree Potter," Malfoy replied shortly.

Harry winced inwardly at the sharpness in Malfoy's tone but didn't let it show. "I suppose you would be," he replied blithely. "Okay, so I will go out this afternoon to collect some paint samples, and I guess we can get started on removing the wallpaper right now."

Malfoy sighed heavily. "Do you know how difficult it will be to remove wallpaper without magic Potter?"

"No idea, but all we've got is time, eh Malfoy?" Harry replied, trying to ignore the Slytherin's relentless whinging.

The blond narrowed his eyes but remained silent.

Harry absently blew his fringe out of his eyes as he lifted his notepad once more to jot down some supplies that he would need to pick up later. "All right, there are probably some tools down in the basement that could work for scraping off this old stuff."

Malfoy turned and headed back into the study without another word, obviously expecting Harry to do the 'fetching.'

Harry clenched his jaw and wondered if it would be worth the bother of forcing Malfoy to help or not. In the end he decided to just go by himself and avoid the aggravation.

Harry used the time alone to gather his thoughts and will his emotions back under control as he rummaged through the pile of junk in the basement. He finally selected two metal tools that appeared to be for scraping, a couple of thick cloths, a large black bucket - which he filled with hot soapy water - and a large cream-coloured sheet that was covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs.

He had to take two trips up and down the basement stairs to haul it all up and then collapsed against the wall to catch his breath. He was just about to call for Malfoy when he realised that the Slytherin would have heard him return and he hadn't yet materialised.

"Fine," Harry muttered under his breath, "if that's how you want to play then you can just sit in there and be bored, mister I-can't-stand-to-be-jobless."

Harry took a deep breath and exhaled steadily before setting to work; dipping one of the cloths into the hot water and soaking the wall as much as possible before pushing the edge of the scraper blade into the cracked and peeling wallpaper and pushing upwards. The wallpaper was coming off but not in the nice neat strips that Harry had been anticipating; it was coming off in small random patches.

"Potter, what the fuck are you doing?"

Harry looked over his shoulder to see Malfoy standing behind him. " _What_? Am I not doing it right?" Harry replied crossly. He was clearly at the end of his tether and allowing his frayed nerves to get the better of him. "And how would _you_ know Malfoy? You haven't done a day's work your whole life!"

Malfoy stared back at him, grey eyes beginning to shine with some emotion Harry couldn't identify - until he caught sight of the corners of the blond's mouth twitching.

Harry blinked, irritation immediately evaporating in the wake of his astonishment. "Are you… _laughing_ at me?" he said incredulously.

Malfoy clearly couldn't hold it in any longer and his eyes crinkled as he began to laugh outright.

Harry turned around fully, his scraper dripping soapy water onto the floor at his feet. " _What_?" he demanded.

"Do you have any idea what that thing in your hand is?" Malfoy finally asked with an arrogant smirk.

Harry glanced down with a frown. "No…"

"You are so naïve Potter," Malfoy snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "That's a _weapon_ , a Katar to be exact."

Harry lifted the light metal object and at once saw that it did indeed look like some sort of large medieval dagger. There were even some rust coloured stains just visible within the tiny crevices. "Oh… well, it works as a wallpaper scraper too," he finally replied, looking back up at Malfoy. He couldn't stop the smile that was slowly breaking out on his face as the ludicrousness of the situation struck him.

Malfoy ducked his head, hiding an answering grin as he examined the other Katar with feigned interest.

Harry turned around with a satisfied smile and returned to the job at hand. "Are you going to help or not?" he finally said aloud.

He heard a heavy sigh then nothing.

Harry peeked out of the corner of his eye to see Malfoy busily rolling up his shirtsleeves to his elbows. He smiled and turned back to the wall, pushing his soaped up medieval dagger against the wallpaper with renewed enthusiasm. He wanted to ask just _how_ Malfoy knew what a Katar was but thought that it might not be the safest of subjects.

Harry continued to scratch off the old wallpaper in small ineffectual bits for another minute until Malfoy was suddenly there next to him, silently mirroring Harry's movements with the other dagger.

The Slytherin paused and looked around the large entryway. "This is going to take days," he concluded wearily.

Harry just smiled. Malfoy's tone lacked his usual bite, so he knew the arrogant prat wasn't too upset at the prospect. "Yes, it's probably going to take up all of your free time. Hope you don't mind."

Malfoy rolled his eyes at the Gryffindor's blatant reminder that he asked to be kept busy. "I suppose I can put up with this menial work for the next few months," he finally replied, pale hands working the metal weapon against the wallpaper in smooth, even strokes.

Harry tried not to stare; the blond's movements were so precise and methodical that just watching him was almost lulling Harry into a tranquil stupor. He shook his head and turned back to his own choppy movements. They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes, with just the sound of their makeshift scrapers being dunked into hot water and then pressed against the wall.

"What are you going to do when you run out of Death Eater spawn?" Malfoy suddenly asked; his tone a study in affected nonchalance.

Harry paused to flick some water droplets off of his glasses. "I will move on to non-Death Eater related people," he replied easily. "I'm only doing this because I wanted to make sure that things were done right in the fallout from the war before I leave it all behind for good."

"Leave it behind?" Malfoy questioned, forgetting his act of indifference.

"Yeah, I don't want anything to do with the war, or fighting bad guys or looking for bad guys… I've had enough of that for one lifetime. That's why I didn't want to become an Auror."

"Are you going to work in the Muggle world then?"

Harry shook his head, glancing sideways at Malfoy and getting caught up in those mesmerising strokes once more. "No, I'll just open up my own little office somewhere and treat any witch or wizard who wants to see me. I would never leave the Wizarding World behind, it saved my life when I was eleven."

There was silence for a few minutes until, "saved your life?"

Harry smiled to himself, happy to have captured the Slytherin's attention in some form. "Yeah, I had no idea I was a wizard until Hagrid told me on my eleventh birthday. I had no idea there was this other world full of magical goings on - where everybody knew about me - and it gave me hope that my life wasn't going to be this sad pathetic existence in which the only family I had hated me intensely."

Malfoy paused and turned to stare at him with a raised brow. "Have you ever examined your _own_ head Potter?"

Harry let out a laugh and shook his head. "Everybody has their issues," he replied matter-of-factly.

Malfoy turned away to dip his scraper back in the bucket. "And what are mine?" he asked.

Harry gazed at him, considering. "I don't know yet. I can take a guess at what they _could_ be based on what I know of your history, but it would just be a guess."

"And what, pray tell, is your guess?"

Harry smiled and leaned sideways against the wall. "I believe your issues would most likely stem from your father." Malfoy levelled him with such a heated look of derision that Harry quickly held up a hand to curtail any verbal mocking. "Not in the way you think though. I think your issues would be based on being an inherently good person trapped in a bad situation, forced to maybe do things or see things that you would rather not, but had to pretend that you did."

Malfoy merely snorted dismissively in response.

"And any son who comes to the conclusion that their father may not be a man to look up to has to be affected by that in some way," Harry added pensively.

"How would _you_ know?"

Harry ignored the stinging remark, knowing that the more defensive Malfoy got, the closer Harry was to the truth. He was easy to read in that respect. "By drawing on past cases and common sense I suppose."

There was silence for a while and Harry pretended not to notice when Malfoy stopped working to stare silently into space.

Then, in an emotionally raw voice Harry would never have thought possible from Draco Malfoy, the blond quietly uttered, "I have no love for my father Potter."

Harry slowly lowered his dagger from the wall, the water running in warm rivulets down his bare forearms. "You know, it would be all right if you did," he replied gently.

Malfoy was still staring blankly at the wall in front of him without really seeing it.

"He made some poor choices but… did he make those choices in order to protect his family? Maybe he was doing what he thought would be for the best," Harry offered.

Malfoy blinked then began to push his dagger against the wall more vigorously than before. "No, he didn't. He made those choices in order to gain power and that's all. That was my father's mission in life; to be as close to whoever was in charge, regardless of how it might affect his own fucking family."

Harry held his breath, astonished that Malfoy was venting to him, and terrified that he might say or do the wrong thing and cause him to fall silent again.

"I mean, what were the two outcomes going to be?" Malfoy snarled, knuckles whitening on his dagger as he continued to ruthlessly scrape up and down the wall in front of him. "Either we would live in fear, cowering to some twisted madman, or we would be exactly where we are now: in Azkaban or ridiculed for the rest of our fucking lives!"

Harry's eyes widened as Malfoy suddenly whirled around and threw the dagger against the opposite wall, the blade sinking into the drywall with a resounding thud.

Harry tore his shocked gaze from the dagger imbedded in the wall to stare at Malfoy; standing with hands clenched into fists and shoulders rising and falling rapidly with each laboured breath.

Harry chewed his lip, deliberating, before wordlessly holding out his dagger towards the other man.

Malfoy's fierce gaze darted to the weapon in Harry's open palm. Darkened grey eyes flicked up to Harry's face in surprise for a split second before he reached out and took the proffered weapon.

Malfoy turned back to the opposite wall and threw the second dagger with just as much force as the first, watching the blade sink into the wall with satisfaction.

Harry smiled. "Better?"

Malfoy exhaled and his unexpected rage seemed to drain away as quickly as it had come on. "A little." He glanced sideways at Harry. "I can't believe you handed me a weapon Potter."

"You looked like you needed it," Harry shrugged.

Malfoy shook his head in amused disbelief. "Thank you for not flinching," he added, sounding uncharacteristically genuine.

Harry paused, thinking back on his response with surprise. He hadn't recoiled at all when Malfoy had turned to throw the dagger. "Huh…" he said, not really sure what to say to that.

Malfoy arched a brow at him before walking over to the two weapons embedded in the wall. "Do you think we'll be able to get these out again?"

Harry joined him, absently scratching his scalp with one hand as he surveyed the two daggers. "Only one way to find out," he murmured as he reached for the hilt. He wrapped both hands around the horizontal hand grip and pulled back. The blasted thing wouldn't budge, and he felt some disused muscle twinge a little between his shoulder blades.

Harry swore under his breath as Malfoy stood back with a smug smirk. Harry readjusted his hands and placed one foot on the wall before hauling back once more with all his might - and pulled the dagger free. He stumbled back a step before turning to Malfoy with a grin of triumph. "Your turn," he goaded.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, which were glinting with the accepted challenge. He promptly wrapped his hands around the other handle and - without placing a foot on the wall in an undignified way - he tightened his grip and pulled back.

Harry gave his head a shake when he found his gaze caught on the flexing muscles of Malfoy's pale forearms, and then promptly pursed his lips in disappointment when the dagger pulled free with what looked like little effort.

"Got it on the first go," Malfoy boasted proudly.

"Yeah well, you must have been angrier when you pitched this one," Harry replied defensively, holding his dagger aloft in illustration.

"Come on Potter," Malfoy responded, still smirking, "I'll make lunch."

Harry couldn't help but smile as he dropped his dagger back into the bucket of water and followed the Slytherin down the hall towards the kitchen.

 **. . . .  
**

****Harry closed the door to his bedroom and leaned back against it for a moment. He hadn't felt this physically exhausted in a very long time. The two of them had worked the rest of the afternoon scraping off wallpaper, and had even managed to completely remove it from the entire entryway. The most astounding part was that they were able to keep up the tentative truce that had started earlier and lasted all the way through dinner. After that, Malfoy had retired to his room to read a book that he had selected from the library and Harry had spent some time making notes about Malfoy's case in the study.

Harry supposed that after a month of near absolute silence, Malfoy had been ready to engage in conversation again - even if the only person he had to talk to was Harry Potter.

Harry walked over to his bed, nudged off his trainers, then collapsed onto his back on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. His mind began to turn over the surprising events of the day and, for the first time since this started, he allowed himself to think about the outcome. Could he confidently deem Draco Malfoy fit for wizarding society again?

Despite the seriousness of his thoughts, and quite without meaning to, Harry drifted off to sleep…

"Potter! POTTER!"

Harry's eyes flew open as a loud insistent voice broke into his dreams and jolted him awake. Breathing heavily and feeling the cool clamminess of sweat all over his body, Harry's gaze darted to his left to see Malfoy leaning over him, expression unreadable.

Harry bolted upright in an instant. "What… what's going on?" he managed to croak through a tender throat.

Malfoy frowned as he straightened up, taking a step back from Harry's bed. "You were screaming bloody murder in your sleep Potter."

Harry swallowed and ran a shaky hand through his hair, pushing his fringe damp with sweat back off of his forehead. "S-sorry," he replied. "I… I must have forgotten…"

Malfoy watched in silence as Harry climbed out of bed as though on autopilot and made his way over to a large wooden trunk at the foot of his bed. Harry lifted the heavy lid of the trunk and reached inside to collect a small glass bottle full of deep purple liquid. He let the lid fall closed again but not before Malfoy caught sight of just how many vials of potion were lined up within the cavity of the large chest.

"Do you take one of those _every night_?" Malfoy asked incredulously.

Harry unstoppered the vial and drank the potion in one gulp. "Only when a client is staying here," he replied uncomfortably. "Otherwise they would never get any sleep."

Malfoy's frown deepened as he watched Harry place the empty bottle on his nightstand. "You take one every night for six months at a time?" he couldn't help asking.

Harry finally met his gaze and shrugged. "Not every night, just the nights I need to get some sleep."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "The nights you need… Potter, are you telling me that you don't sleep every night and when you do you have to take a potion to do it?"

Harry frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes," he answered, feeling cross at how exposed the situation was making him feel. He didn't want his clients to see him like this, least of all Malfoy. "They _are_ prescribed by a Healer," he added tersely.

"Not a very good one," Malfoy muttered in response.

"Says who?" Harry retorted indignantly.

Malfoy sighed and gazed at Harry pityingly. "Any decent Healer should know the effects of too much Dreamless Sleep Potion Potter. It's not a mild potion by any means and can lead to all sorts of side-effects, not to mention its addictive qualities."

Harry shifted uneasily, breaking eye contact. "How do you know this stuff?" he asked, gazing at dusty floorboards.

"I have an interest in it I suppose." Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest as he answered, both of them now standing in clearly defensive postures whilst feeling unaccountably exposed. "If you must know, I have an interest in Healer studies."

Harry's gaze flicked back to him. "Really? I didn't know that."

"Because I didn't tell you," Malfoy snapped.

Harry swallowed and sat on the edge of his bed. "Well… sorry to have woken you, I'll try not to forget the potion next time."

Malfoy let out a sigh and glared at him in annoyance. "Didn't you listen to a word I said Potter?"

Harry blinked, taken aback. "Why do you care?" he couldn't help asking, surprised by Malfoy's vehemence.

The tall blond merely stared at him a moment before replying, "You die, I die."

"Huh?"

"Anything happens to you while I'm still here then I will be trapped forever and starve to death, remember?" he retorted.

"Oh." Harry looked down at his hands. "The Aurors check in with me once a day so you wouldn't actually die Malfoy."

"Still…" Malfoy's annoyed expression smoothed into his usual mask of cool indifference. "You might be pleasanter to live with if you're getting a full night's rest and not hopped up on Dreamless Sleep."

Harry smiled a little; Malfoy bizarrely sounded like he was actually concerned. An idea suddenly struck him. "You have nightmares too, don't you?"

Grey eyes flared with emotion for only a split second but Harry caught it.

"Good night Potter."

Harry watched as Malfoy turned on his heel and strode out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

He lay back on his bed, feeling the drowsy warmth of the potion sweeping over him and dragging him under. His last thought was that perhaps he and Draco Malfoy weren't all that different after all.


	3. November

_Chapter Three: November_

A loud crack echoed in the icy air of Fairley Place, Garrison; a wizarding village just on the outskirts of London and home to a vast majority of Ministry workers. It was an early Saturday morning in mid-November and Harry had just appeared on the doorstep of one of twelve narrow row homes along the quiet lane. He pounded his fist on the cheerful yellow door a few times before shoving his hands into his pockets to wait.

"Harry." Hermione's smile of greeting faltered as she took in the furious expression on her friend's face. "Malfoy?" she guessed wryly.

"What else?" Harry retorted with a roll of his eyes.

"Come in." Hermione stepped back, hiding a grin as Harry kicked off his shoes with a scowl and headed for her cozy front lounge room. He collapsed into the grey suede sofa with a heavy sigh and closed his eyes.

"What did he do now?" she asked as she came into the room.

Harry opened his eyes and looked at her. "He… he's being all nice and… and downright cheerful."

Hermione laughed before she could stop herself. "What?"

Harry glared. "He's not _actually_ happy, he's just pretending to be and I have no idea _why_."

"Oh I see," Hermione said with a nod of understanding. "How do you know it's fake?"

"Because he's not just happy, he's _obnoxiously_ happy - and ridiculously polite," Harry ranted, waving his hands about in agitation. "When I asked him if he'd like to choose a paint colour from the samples I brought home, do you know what he said? He said 'yes thank you that would be lovely'."

Hermione snorted.

"And he was wearing _jeans_ today!" Harry exclaimed, as though the notion of Malfoy dressing informally was mortally offensive. "Jeans!"

Hermione laughed and shook her head as she settled herself into the chair opposite Harry. "When did this start?" she asked, unable to imagine Malfoy acting like a perfect angel.

Harry frowned. "That's the part that's bothering me," he said before flopping back into the cushions with a sigh. "Two weeks ago it felt like I was making progress, like Malfoy had let some of his guard down and was speaking openly, but then that night I had a rather vocal nightmare and when he woke me up-"

"He came into your room?" Hermione interrupted with a raised brow.

"Yeah, I don't lock my door," Harry replied unconcerned, "and he was very… bothered by my use of Dreamless Sleep. It was the day after that that he began to act strangely. I just went along with it, thinking that he wouldn't be able to keep up the façade - but he has. I couldn't take it anymore this morning so I just left and came straight here."

"Have you tried asking him about it?"

"Yeah, and he simply denies it," Harry said in frustration. "I said this isn't you and he told me in no uncertain terms do I know what is or isn't him. I feel like I'm going round and round in circles Hermione. Why would he suddenly do this?"

Hermione pursed her lips a moment before suddenly standing up. "This calls for reinforcements," she said firmly. "I'll make the tea and you Firecall Ron."

Harry couldn't help but smile, already feeling a little more optimistic.

Fifteen minutes later, the trio were seated around Hermione's warm lounge room; drinking tea and munching on some truly terrible biscuits. Hermione may have been the smartest witch of their age but she was _not_ so skilled in the kitchen.

"So you just stormed out and left him there?" Ron asked after Harry had relayed the morning's events to him.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, he was making me so furious that I couldn't think straight and I knew I was going to say something that I would regret later, so I just left him to it."

"Good on you," Ron replied fervently. "Git needed to be taught a lesson. I mean, how dare he act like a prat when you're just trying to help him."

Hermione sighed as she placed her tea on the coffee table. "Was that really the most professional reaction for a Psychoanalyst though?"

Harry glared. "If it were anyone other than Malfoy, I would agree with you Hermione."

"Why is it Malfoy can get under your skin like no one else?" Hermione pondered aloud.

"Because he's a smarmy bastard who hates us - especially Harry," Ron interjected emphatically, biscuit crumbs falling from his lips as he spoke. "Wanker should be grateful for everything you're doing for him."

Hermione ignored Ron and looked at Harry. "Maybe you should tell him what you did for his mother?" she suggested quietly. "It might help."

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, I thought about that but… I don't want him to feel like he owes me anything. I think he already feels like that and it's really not working out so well."

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Ron asked in confusion, glancing between the two.

"Harry spoke on behalf of Narcissa Malfoy in front of the Wizengamot last week. If it hadn't been for him, she probably would've ended up in Azkaban," Hermione explained.

"Why do I not know this?" Ron demanded, feeling left out.

Hermione smiled patiently. "Because you were on assignment at the time and Harry has been a bit busy lately."

Ron rolled his eyes and stuffed another biscuit into his mouth.

"But seriously Harry," Hermione said, turning back to him. "What are you going to do about Malfoy?"

"I'm going to go buy some paint supplies, then go home and shove them up his ars-"

"Harry!"

Ron laughed loudly as Harry glanced at him with a grin.

"All right," Harry amended with a sigh. "I am going to go home and force Malfoy to tell me just what the hell he's playing at, and I won't get angry and I won't give up until he tells me."

Hermione nodded. "Good."

"And if he doesn't tell you?" Ron asked.

"I won't leave him alone until he does," Harry said with a shrug.

"You know, you can't turn a Slytherin into a Gryffindor Harry," Ron said before taking a sip of his cooling tea.

"I do realise that Ron," Harry replied tetchily. "That's not what I'm trying to do. He can be an arrogant bastard all he likes but that doesn't mean that I'll send him to Azkaban for it." Harry paused, brow furrowing as he thought. "Maybe… maybe that's the reason for this whole saint act; perhaps Malfoy is overcompensating because deep down he's worried that I'll condemn him just for the little things."

"Like being a wanker?" Ron grinned.

"I think that's a fair assumption," Hermione said.

"That he's a wanker?" Ron laughed.

Harry laughed and Hermione couldn't help but giggle too.

"Well, I'd better get back," Harry finally said reluctantly, he really didn't want to leave Hermione's house; everything seemed easier away from Grimmauld Place. 

**. . . .**

Harry walked back into number twelve and shut the door, absently listening to the wards seal behind him as he glanced around for Malfoy. He could see flickering light coming from the open door of the library so he made his way over, mentally preparing himself for an uphill battle.

"Hey," he said in greeting as he glanced into the bleak, window-less room and spotted the blond sitting behind the large desk with a book spread open in front of him.

Malfoy glanced up and once again employed the pleasant smile that had been creeping Harry out for a fortnight. "Welcome back Harry."

Harry tried not to grimace. That was the other thing; Malfoy had taken to calling him by his first name as part of his act - and it was fucking annoying. Now he knew how the blond felt when Harry had been calling him Draco. "Do you think we could talk?" he asked evenly, walking into the room a few steps.

"Of course, whatever you wish Harry."

Harry clenched his jaw as he walked over and sat in one of the worn green armchairs. He carefully smoothed his expression before turning back to Malfoy. "So, I think we should talk about your recent behaviour," he started.

Malfoy leaned back in his chair, feigning confusion. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes, I'm afraid there is," Harry continued steadfastly. "You're not doing yourself any favours by pretending to be a perfect angel Malfoy."

The Slytherin arched a brow. "I believe we've already had this conversation."

"Yes we have but it didn't get us anywhere," he replied swiftly. "We're going to have it again and I'm not leaving until you tell me the truth or at least agree to stop pretending to be a saint."

Malfoy leaned forwards again, resting his forearms on the desktop and holding Harry's gaze. "So let me get this straight," he said carefully, "you want me to be rude and horrible?"

"If that's who you truly are, then yes."

"I see." Malfoy stared at him a moment, assessing. "And if I don't, then you don't have enough evidence to send me to Azkaban? Is that the problem Potter?"

Harry took a deep steadying breath before answering, clamping down on the flare of annoyance. "As I've said before, I have no desire to send you to Azkaban," he replied evenly. "All I'm doing is making sure that you're not a danger to society and that you don't want to be the next Dark Lord. That's all. If you are rude or irritating or angry, that has no bearing on your case."

Grey eyes narrowed. "And I'm just supposed to take your word on it oh Chosen One?"

"Yes," Harry replied simply.

Malfoy averted his gaze, looking as though he was trying to control his temper. "I don't trust you Potter, and the fact that you are the final say on whether I'm punished just for being my father's son is so fucking typical-" he bit off, too infuriated to continue.

"Do I seem like the petty and malicious type to you Malfoy?"

"How should I know?" Malfoy snapped, gaze returning to meet Harry's. "What I _do_ know is that you jump to conclusions about people and refuse to see them from a different point of view."

"Like who?" Harry frowned.

"Snape!" Malfoy replied swiftly and with vehemence. "The man was more selfless than you'll ever be and you were so clouded by foolish, small-minded presumptions that you never saw that for yourself!"

Harry glared. "I am more grateful to that man than you'll ever know, but you're right, I didn't see him for who he truly was until the end – because he was too busy acting like a right bastard towards me!"

Malfoy stood and leaned his hands on the desk, glaring at Harry. "Not everyone has to bow down and worship at your feet Harry Potter!"

"And I don't expect people to!" Harry exclaimed in irritation. "You want to talk about people with pre-conceived ideas about someone? Well Snape was _just_ as guilty – he was really shitty to me because of who my father was - not because of who _I_ was!"

Grey eyes flashed dangerously. "And now you're doing the same thing to me - along with everyone else in the wizarding world!"

"How am I?" Harry cried in frustration, getting to his feet and throwing his hands in the air. "How is my bringing you here treating you poorly?"

Malfoy strode around the desk and stood in front of Harry, fuming. "Because how dare you think you can set just aside years of prejudice and animosity in order to treat me fairly!"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't think I could!"

"Well I'm here to tell you that you're not fucking capable Potter! I think you're just out for revenge."

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief and outrage. "And what about when I saved you from the Fiendfyre? That was just for my health, was it?"

"What do you do? Keep a list of all the things I owe you for Potter?"

"No! For fuck's sake!" Harry cried in exasperation. "Get your head out of your arse Malfoy."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means the world does not revolve around you and your fucking problems! We are not at Hogwarts and this is not Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Grow the fuck up!"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps you're the one that needs to grow the fuck up Potter because people like us could never be _friends_ ," he sneered derisively.

"If you really think like that, then you're no better than your father."

In the blink of an eye, the blond had shoved Harry hard in the chest and Harry stumbled backwards, falling into the green armchair behind him. He looked up at Malfoy in surprise and anger, hands clenching the armrests so hard that his knuckles turned white.

Malfoy glared back at him, chest heaving and eyes burning with a myriad of emotions, before he eventually turned and swiftly exited the room.

Harry let out the breath he'd been holding and promptly dropped his head into his hands, the urge to run after Malfoy and punch him in the face quickly dissipating, leaving him weak and slightly shaky. "That went well," he muttered under his breath.

The tinkling chime of a Firecall permeated the air from the direction of the front room and Harry automatically stood and made his way towards it. He glanced at the staircase as he walked past but Malfoy was already upstairs in his room.

Harry closed the door behind him before kneeling down in front of the crackling fire. He took a steadying breath and signed in by pressing his hand to a stone panel on his right.

"Harry," Auror Bendle greeted, sounding a little relieved. "We received a physical distress message from your tracker, everything all right there?"

Harry sighed, he'd forgotten about the charm that kept a close watch on his physical well-being. This was the first time it had been activated in two years. "Yeah I'm fine, just had a bit of a heated discussion with Malfoy and he shoved me."

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked in concern.

"Yeah, he left straight away and now he's up in his room."

Johannes sighed and shook his head. "You know, no one would blame you for giving up on this one."

Harry frowned. " _I_ would," he said in response.

"He's not safe..."

"I'll be the judge of that," Harry replied stiffly.

Johannes chuckled. "All right, fine, I'll leave you to it. There was another reason I called though."

"Oh?" Harry settled himself cross-legged on the rug.

"Malfoy has had a visitor request."

Harry's brow lifted with interest. "Really? Who?"

"His mother."

Harry's lips parted in surprise. "Of course, she's a free witch now," he murmured, more to himself than to Auror Bendle.

"Is that a yes then?"

Harry rubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah, it might be good for him actually. Can she come right now?"

"I'll check, hold on for a few minutes and I'll call you straight back."

Harry sat back as the fire went suddenly dead in front of him. He rubbed his bare arms at the sudden chill in the air as he waited, his mind already replaying his argument with Malfoy.

Hermione was right, for some reason Malfoy was able to get under his skin like no one else ever had. The blond was able to infuriate him with just a few words and he hated him for it. Malfoy was only proving himself right by triggering Harry's anger and causing him to lash out. If Harry couldn't even have a civil conversation with him, then why on earth would Malfoy trust him with his life?

Perhaps the question he _should_ be focusing on is: how was he going to _earn_ that trust?

The tinkling bell of the fire brought Harry out of his reverie and he quickly answered. "Johannes?"

"All good Harry, Mrs. Malfoy is on her way there now. I think she's quite eager to see her son. We've adjusted the wards from our end to admit her until the end of the day."

Harry smiled a little. "Good, let's hope she can relax him a little better than I can," he quipped.

Johannes laughed. "If you need us, just call."

Harry said his goodbyes and the fire once more turned to ash. He pushed himself to his feet and went to his room to fetch a jumper before gathering his courage to walk up the last flight of stairs to Malfoy's room.

He hurriedly pulled the deep blue jumper on over his head before knocking on the door. "Hey Malfoy?" he called, attempting to sound as neutral as possible.

He heard a heavy sigh from within. "Just leave me alone Potter. Please."

Harry raised his brow at the quiet appeal. "I would but… I thought you should know your mother will be here shortly."

There was a pause then he heard footsteps on the other side of the door before it suddenly swung open. Malfoy peered out at him with a wary frown. "What do you mean?"

Harry offered a small smile in an attempt at being the bigger person. "Your mother made a visitation request and I said it would be fine, so... she's coming over now. Unless of course you'd rather she didn't...?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and stepped past Harry into the hall.

Harry silently followed the tall blond down the stairs and into the kitchen where Malfoy started preparing some tea and food, not once glancing in Harry's direction.

Harry watched him for a moment before grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and heading to his bedroom to make some notes and do some studying. He wanted to keep out of Malfoy's way for the duration of his mother's visit so that the two could have some privacy.

Perhaps Malfoy's mother could talk some sense into the stubborn Slytherin.

/

The bell rang fifteen minutes later and Draco opened the door to greet his mother, a strange invisible pressure pushing against his body as he leaned towards the open doorway, triggering the security wards.

"My darling," Narcissa greeted her son warmly as she lightly stepped over the threshold and pecked him on the cheek. She removed her gloves and placed one hand on her son's shoulder as the door swung shut behind her. "I've missed you my little Dragon."

Draco offered her a shy smile before leading the way into the adjacent front parlour where he'd laid out things for tea. He shut the doors firmly behind him, somewhat surprised that Potter hadn't made an unwelcome appearance, before sitting next to his mother on the lumpy loveseat.

"I apologize for the… surroundings," Draco said, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the dreary room and furniture.

Narcissa waved a hand dismissively before selecting one of the steaming cups of Earl Grey and placing it delicately on her knees. "I did not come here for the ambience Draco," she replied with a teasing smile. She looked healthy and in high spirits; wearing a stunning deep red silk dress, grey eyes sparkling and pale cheeks holding a slight flush to them from the cold air outside.

Draco returned the smile, feeling his earlier tension begin to fade. "How have you been? Have they scheduled your hearing yet?"

Narcissa tilted her head to one side, long blond hair falling over her shoulder, as she stared at her son with a puzzled frown. "Whatever do you mean, my darling?"

Draco mirrored her puzzled expression, causing the two to look even more like mother and son, along with the matching white-blond hair and expressive grey eyes. "Your hearing, with the Wizengamot."

"That was last week Draco," she replied, picking up her teacup and taking a sip.

Draco frowned. "It was? Why was I not informed? What happened?"

Narcissa smiled fondly at her only child as she set her cup back down on the small table. "Did Mister Potter not tell you?"

Draco shook his head.

"The Wizengamot decided in my favour and I am allowed to remain at The Manor a free woman," she replied, a joyful gleam in her eyes.

Draco exhaled in relief. "I'm so pleased mother."

"Yes so am I, my little Dragon," she replied with a smile. "And it's all thanks to Mister Potter."

Draco stared at her in astonishment. "It is?"

She nodded as she selected a biscuit from the waiting plate and took a delicate bite of the delicious shortbread. "Why yes, he testified in my favour, quite adamantly I might add. The only reason I am here talking to you now is because of what he did for me. I shall be forever grateful. I was hoping I might thank him today as I did not have the chance at the Ministry last week."

Draco shook his head, as though fighting against the truth of his mother's words. "I… I can't believe it. He never said…"

His mother smiled and placed a hand over his in understanding. "People like him don't usually do it for the admiration Draco. I know you and he have never really gotten on, but I've come to realise just how good a person Harry Potter truly is." She stopped and laughed lightly. "Admitting one was wrong is a hard pill to swallow."

Draco averted his gaze, suddenly feeling slightly ashamed of his behaviour towards Potter after his mother's words.

Narcissa's blond brows pulled together in a frown. "You are treating him well, aren't you?" she asked suspiciously.

Draco shifted uneasily.

"Draco?" she repeated, a clear warning in her tone.

He finally raised his gaze back to his mother's face. "Not really, no."

She sighed and set her half-finished biscuit back down on the plate. "Darling, I know your father and I are to blame for a lot of your issues-"

" _Issues_?" Draco repeated, insulted.

"- but I believe you're old enough to make up your own mind now. I didn't raise you to be a mindless peon."

"But-"

"No," she cut across him sharply, "he has saved your life as well as mine, whatever childish rivalries you are holding on to, I want you to cease this instant and treat him with the respect that he deserves. Even your father conceded this point at the end."

Draco exhaled in frustration, absently running one hand through his hair.

" _And_ ," she continued firmly, "he holds your life in his hands even as we speak. Don't give him reason to send you away from me my little Dragon. It would break my heart to visit your father as well as you in Azkaban."

"Potter would love that," Draco couldn't help muttering petulantly.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "Do you really believe Mister Potter capable of such malevolent behaviour?"

"I don't trust him," he replied honestly, grey eyes almost pleading for understanding.

Narcissa shook her head and clasped his hand in both of her small cool ones. "Please try, for me Draco. I think if you gave him a chance, you would find that you and he are a lot alike."

Draco snorted sardonically. "Yes, we're so alike that I yelled at him before losing it completely and shoving him. That sound like something your perfect Boy-Who-Lived would do?"

"Oh Draco you didn't?" Narcissa said sadly. "You need to control your temper, my darling. I know you're better than you used to be but…"

"But Potter tends to bring it out in me?" Draco replied bitterly.

She couldn't help but smile a little at her son, who despite being a man in his own right, still tended to look so young to her at times. "And did he lose his temper as well?"

Draco smirked. "Yes, it seems I bring it out in him too."

Narcissa smiled and took another sip of her cooling tea. "See? You already have a something in common."

Draco chuckled and shook his head. He'd always been very close with his mother, more so than with his often distant and cold father. "Alright, I shall endeavour to humour you and become best mates with Potter."

"No one said you had to be friends Draco, just employ some common courtesy and make use of the well-bred manners that I brought you up to have."

Draco smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. "I will," he promised.

"Good." Narcissa smiled and picked up her half-eaten biscuit. "Now, shall we talk about what in Merlin's name you are wearing?"

Draco glanced down at his Muggle jeans and couldn't help but chuckle. "Potter baiting," he replied in way of explanation.

Narcissa merely raised a brow as she took a bite of her biscuit.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Nearly two hours later, a knock sounded on Harry's bedroom door, causing him to jump a little at the sudden noise. He pushed aside his messy notes spread across the bed and got up to answer the door with a questioning frown.

Malfoy was standing in the hall, looking strangely uncomfortable. "Potter, my mother wishes to speak with you a moment."

Harry blinked in surprise but quickly nodded in acquiescence. He followed the blond back down the stairs to the front foyer where Narcissa Malfoy was waiting with a gentle smile.

"Hello Mrs. Malfoy," he greeted politely, glancing between the two and wondering if she had told Malfoy about the hearing.

She came forward, surprising him, and tightly clasped his hands in hers. "I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me and my son Mister Potter."

Harry flushed red. "You're welcome Mrs. Malfoy, I was just repaying you for what you did for me. In the Forbidden Forest," he mumbled.

Narcissa smiled knowingly and squeezed his hands once more before releasing them. "And I am very glad that I did."

Harry smiled hesitantly and quickly shoved his hands into his pockets, still feeling all kinds of awkward.

"I'm sure we shall see each other again soon," she said with a kind smile before turning to Malfoy. "Goodbye Draco, do try to behave my darling."

Malfoy's pale cheeks tinted pink as his mother turned and walked out the front door, a cold gust of air sweeping in and surrounding them before sealing shut and leaving the two men alone once more.

Harry turned to head back upstairs when Malfoy suddenly reached out and grasped his elbow. Harry immediately tensed, wary gaze snapping to the Slytherin's face.

"Potter, do you think… Could we talk a moment?" Malfoy asked haltingly.

"Of course," Harry replied cautiously.

Malfoy released his arm and walked into the front room where his mother and he had had their visit. He sat on the loveseat and waited as Harry cautiously sat next to him and folded his hands stiffly in his lap.

Malfoy exhaled and forced himself to look Harry in the eye. "I… I just wanted to apologize for my behaviour."

Harry's lips parted in surprise; whatever he had been expecting Malfoy to say, that wasn't it.

"What you did for my mother," he continued steadfastly, "I know now that you're not out for revenge or to ridicule me. She's all I have Potter, and if you had really wanted to hurt me then you would have let them take her away from me."

Harry blushed in embarrassment for the second time that day and looked away. "I just did what was right," he replied with a shrug. "She certainly didn't deserve an Azkaban sentence. I wanted them to know that."

Malfoy hesitated a moment before pushing on. "And while I'm apologizing, I'm also sorry for pushing you earlier. That was uncalled for. My mother says that I have a temper," he offered with the hint of a wry smile pulling at his lips.

Harry returned the smile tentatively. "I've been told that I can be slightly… volatile as well, so the two of us are probably a recipe for disaster."

Malfoy smirked. "I think we've already proven that Potter."

Harry chuckled and felt himself relax for the first time in weeks. "So… is this a truce then?"

"Yes," Malfoy confirmed with a nod.

Harry smiled. "Is this because your mother is making you play nice with me Malfoy?"

He paused, taking a moment to realise that Harry was just teasing and not actually making fun of him, and then he smirked. "She can be a scary woman Potter."

Harry laughed and Malfoy's smirk turned into a genuine smile at the sound; he'd never made Harry Potter laugh before. It really was so much easier to just be himself and not perpetually hold onto such a hard and defensive exterior. His father was the same way with anyone outside the family - and sometimes _within_ the family, as Draco could attest to.

His mother was right; he was old enough to make up his own mind and he wasn't going to be able to unless he let go of the resentment and the anger he harboured towards Potter. He had been doing exactly what he'd accused Potter of; not able to change pre-conceived ideas of someone when the truth was right there in front of him.

"Well as long as this truce is still holding," Harry said, interrupting his thoughts, "then I think we should do some painting."

Malfoy blinked, staring at him in dismay. "You can't be serious Potter."

Harry grinned and got to his feet. "Oh I am."

The blond narrowed his eyes but his expression held no real malice. "You are pushing the boundaries of this truce already Potter."

Harry laughed and placed his hands on his hips. "What do you suggest we do instead then?"

Malfoy stared up at him a moment, considering. "How about… you continue with my head examining session?"

Harry raised his brow in surprise before slowly sinking back down onto the loveseat. "Sure," he replied, sounding pleased. "Let's start from the beginning, shall we?"


	4. December

_Chapter Four - December_

"I think I may have underestimated Muggles."

Harry glanced over at Malfoy, who was currently lounging back on the king-sized bed in the third floor master bedroom. It was the only room the Muggle television Harry had brought in that would receive a signal so it had become their official screening room. Watching telly on a bed together had been bizarre and slightly awkward at first but Harry was so used to it by now that he didn't even bat an eye at lying on a bed next to Draco Malfoy anymore. It helped that the bed was massive and that they weren't even close to touching.

"Yeah, why's that?" Harry asked with an amused smile, intrigued. He was currently sprawled on his stomach, head at the end of the bed, with a large bowl of fresh popcorn next to him.

Malfoy kept his eyes on the television screen as he replied, head resting against the dark mahogany headboard behind him. "They seem to have a bit more depth to them than I had originally thought."

Harry snorted before tossing some popcorn into his mouth and chewing. "Depth?"

Malfoy nodded and tore his gaze from the flickering light of the television to look at Harry. "Yes, it would seem a large proportion of the Muggle population is quite interested in culture and the arts."

Harry laughed. "And that automatically gives them _depth_?"

Malfoy arched a haughty brow. "Yes, an appreciation for the arts means tapping into a deeper more emotional part of the human psyche. If a Muggle can truly enjoy and be touched by the raw emotion of, say, La Boheme, then that says a lot for not only their intelligence but their emotional complexity as a species as well."

"Species?" Harry repeated with a grin as he turned onto his side, still hugging his bowl of popcorn. "While I appreciate the fact that you now think more of Muggles, the fact remains that you're still a prejudiced idiot."

Malfoy frowned. "How so? I thought you would be pleased by my epiphany."

Harry laughed. "You can't group a bunch of people together by something like bloodline or skin colour and expect them all to retain the same traits Malfoy. That's like saying all French people are snobs or all southern Americans are racist. I'm a full-blood wizard and I have no idea what La Boheme even _is_."

"Hardly surprising," Malfoy muttered with a roll of his eyes.

"Face it Malfoy, no matter which way you look at it, all Muggles are not the same, which means that all Muggles are not beneath you. They are just as varied in their intelligence and interests as witches and wizards are, and just because they don't have magical powers does not make them useless or worthless as human beings. They do things that _you_ could never do."

Malfoy smirked, looking sceptical. "Such as?"

Harry exhaled noisily as he thought. "I dunno… construct a jet?"

"I don't need a jet when I can fly on a broom or Apparate."

"Ah but the challenge isn't what works faster or better but something that they can do that you _can't_. You, Draco Malfoy, can not build a jet."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Yes but with the proper education and training, I _could_ build a jet. Muggles aren't born with the inherent knowledge of jet building." He paused and then smiled slowly. "But no matter how much training or education Muggles are provided, they will _never_ be able to work a wand."

"So you're back to thinking less of them again?" Harry asked despairingly.

Malfoy chuckled as he stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles and looking very superior indeed. "Yes, you've convinced me Potter; they _are_ useless."

Harry threw a handful of popcorn at him, trying and failing not to laugh as he turned back to the screen.

Harry had thought that the television would be a welcome addition to their pitifully short list of available pastimes. He didn't know why he hadn't thought to bring one in for the last client; he couldn't remember being as concerned with his client's day to day contentment at Grimmauld Place as he was with Malfoy's. It felt as though he had more on the line this time, more to prove.

It had been over a week since Mrs. Malfoy's visit and the difference was like night and day. Malfoy was suddenly co-operative and, while he wasn't exactly forthcoming with his feelings or his past yet, he was definitely trying - and that's all that mattered to Harry.

The best part was that Malfoy never sugar-coated his opinions; he said what he genuinely thought about things - bugger the consequences. Which was why Harry couldn't really get angry about his Muggle-bashing or superiority complex; it was just a part of Malfoy's character and it really wasn't Harry's job to try and change him.

He doubted the best Psychoanalyst in the United Kingdom could change the Slytherin's mind on Muggles. Harry was just thankful that Malfoy hadn't used the term 'mudblood' so far.

Harry smiled happily as he noticed that the Mr. Bean Christmas episode was just beginning. It was one of his favourite Christmas traditions.

"You were raised by Muggles, weren't you?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Malfoy and saw the blatant curiosity on his face, without a hint of the condescension he had been expecting. "Yeah, I was," he replied.

"And…" Malfoy paused, as though searching for the right words, "what were they like?" he finally settled on.

Harry dropped his gaze to the worn bedspread beneath him as he thought about how best to answer the question. The older he got, the more he came to realise just how abusive - emotionally and physically - the Dursley's had been to him. While he had come to accept this fact, he still felt embarrassed about it. "They were… horrible," he finally said honestly, gaze flicking back to Malfoy's face.

Malfoy looked surprised at first, and then he looked as though he were trying to piece together the scattered fragments of a puzzle in his mind. "Why is that?" he asked with a slight frown.

Harry dropped his chin onto folded arms with a sigh. "They were… abusive. They called me all sorts of names, treated me like a slave, locked me away when they didn't want to deal with me or my magic, and even hit me more times than I can count. That kind of horrible."

Malfoy blinked, astonished. "Are you serious Potter? You once made an off-hand comment about your family hating you but I just thought you were joking. I… I had no idea."

Harry shrugged without looking up. "I don't exactly advertise the fact, not even Ron and Hermione know - and I wouldn't want them to."

"Isn't that what Gryffindor friends are for?"

Harry's deep green eyes darted back to his face. "They wouldn't understand; they're both from such perfect, normal families… and I think I would just be embarrassed about the whole thing."

Malfoy cocked his head to one side. "Is that why you can tell me and not them? Because my family is far from perfect?"

Harry surveyed the blond a moment and was pleasantly surprised to see that Malfoy wasn't being sarcastic for once; he truly did mean what he'd said. "I don't think your family is abnormal, for wizards anyway," Harry replied with a small smile. "I guess it's just easier to tell you because…"

"I can relate?" Malfoy interjected.

"Can you?" Harry asked, lifting his head off of his arms.

Malfoy smiled and shook his head. "Not because my family abused me Potter - nice try." He paused and drew his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms loosely around his shins and resting his chin on his knees. "My family - especially my father - was hard on me growing up but never struck me or even really shouted at me. My father's angry voice was very quiet and much more effective than screaming could ever be."

Harry lowered his head back to his arms as he looked up at Malfoy. "So, did your father push for you to become a Death Eater right from the beginning?"

"He never mentioned it until there were whisperings of the Dark Lord's return, and then yes, he did want me to join their ranks. It wasn't just because he thought the Dark Lord was right, although he did hold a lot of the same ideologies, but he thought he was picking the stronger side; the side that would win in the end. He just wanted his family on the winning side. Call it self-preservation I guess."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "I can understand that."

"Really?" Malfoy replied dubiously.

"Sure, he was trying to protect his family. It's obviously a very strong bond or people wouldn't do things like that; they wouldn't die for their family."

Malfoy regarded him pensively and Harry was slightly alarmed by the unexpected hint of sympathy in those grey eyes.

"Or perhaps something a little less pitiful," Harry quickly mumbled, looking away.

But Malfoy would not be diverted. "I always believed you to have a family who adored you as much as the rest of the wizarding world, so I never really thought your lack of a mother and father affected you that much. I mean, you were only a baby so you wouldn't really remember them or be attached to them, but if you grew up without ever receiving a kind word or affection…"

Harry quickly sat up; face flushing and eyes downcast. "It really wasn't that bad, once I received my Hogwarts letter my life changed drastically; I suddenly had friends and Dumbledore and… and I had a godfather - for a little while."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "And suddenly you had a psychotic serial killer after you at the age of eleven and your great mentor started using you as a pawn in a war for years and years… Oh yes, I can see how that would be much better."

Harry leveled him with a look. "I know it sounds bad when you say it like that but… I actually thought _you_ had it worse."

Malfoy blinked. "Me? Why?"

Harry shrugged. "Because I thought your father was as evil as Voldemort and that you were unhappy at home. I kind of thought that you didn't ever receive a kind word or affection either and that's why you were so mean at school."

"Classic bully scenario; unloved and mistreated at home so he takes it out on his school mates?" Malfoy simpered.

Harry's lips twitched into a lop-sided grin. "Yeah, pretty much."

Malfoy shook his head and leaned back against the headboard once more. "Merlin, you really do think everything is black and white Potter."

"Not anymore, I promise," Harry replied, still smiling. "Studying the human mind definitely opened my eyes up to a lot of things."

"Including shades of grey?"

Harry nodded his dark head. "Yes, including shades of grey."

Malfoy smirked and glanced back at the television screen as Mr. Bean got a huge turkey stuck on his head.

"For what it's worth, I don't think that you're completely evil anymore," Harry informed him.

Mischievous grey eyes darted to Harry's face. "Just one quarter evil then?"

Harry laughed. "Perhaps, but no one's perfect."

Malfoy smiled at him before sliding his gaze back to the screen. "You're so weird Potter."

"Yep - popcorn?" Harry offered amiably, holding up the huge bowl.

At Malfoy's nod, Harry shifted up the bed to lean against the headboard beside the amused Slytherin. He placed the white ceramic bowl between them and settled back to watch the rest of the show.

Harry munched on warm buttered popcorn as he pondered the strange little glow of exhilaration within him that he knew had to do with Draco. It felt like a culmination of emotions all rolled into one knotted ball in his gut; he was thrilled that he was finally getting somewhere with the Slytherin and that they seemed to be developing a tentative friendship of sorts. He found himself appreciating Malfoy's wry sense of humour, as well as the intelligent and unexpectedly thought-provoking conversations.

The most surprising thing of all though was the distinct sense of empathy that the blond seemed to show him. Harry was ashamed to admit that he once thought that Draco Malfoy didn't have the capacity for compassion.

It was one of the things he needed to look for and confirm in order for clients to be released, and Harry was relieved to tick that one off Malfoy's list.

Harry surreptitiously peeked at Malfoy out of the corner of his eye, watching the blond become wrapped up in the television show, and he knew what he wanted: he wanted Draco Malfoy to be a free man. 

**. . . .**

"Oh come on Malfoy, don't be such a Grinch," Harry chided, teetering on a chair as he strung another row of garishly bright fairy lights around the large Christmas tree. "This is fun!"

The blond looked up from where he sat at the large table in the formal dining room, a blue and silver book open in front of him. "Fun?" he repeated disdainfully. "That's house-elf stuff Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes, struggling to set the lights in place and feeling himself begin to sweat with the exertion. "Well when you don't have little slaves to do your bidding you have to make do Malfoy," he panted.

Draco smirked. " _You're_ my little slave Potter - and you're doing a fine job."

Harry couldn't help but laugh as he hopped down from the chair and proudly surveyed his work.

Malfoy had taken to following him around the house, even when his presence wasn't required. He didn't always talk or even initiate a conversation, but he seemed to like the company. Either that or he thought that _Harry_ needed the company. Harry didn't care what the reason was; he welcomed the gesture.

"What are you reading?" Harry asked as he collapsed into the chair across from him.

Malfoy lifted the book so that Harry could read 'An Introduction to Psychoanalytic Theory' emblazoned across the front. It was one of Harry's text books from Uni.

Harry raised a brow. "That's a bit heavy for holiday reading isn't it?" he asked.

The Slytherin merely hummed and returned his gaze to the book.

Harry turned back to the Christmas tree and wondered if he was missing anything. The house renovations had stalled slightly but Harry had been gradually filling the house with more personal items; such as the Christmas tree, artwork, rugs, lamps and some other odds and ends for decorating purposes. It all made Number Twelve feel a little more like a home and not so stark and cold.

"Why is it you find this so interesting Potter?"

Harry turned back around. "Huh? Oh, I dunno really. Why? Do you think it's boring?"

Malfoy finally looked up from the text. "No, it's intriguing, a little dry perhaps, but definitely interesting."

"Why do you ask then?"

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair, surveying Harry curiously. "I always thought you would go into something like quidditch or become an Auror or something a little more… attention-seeking."

"Of course you did," Harry replied sardonically. "You always thought I was just some spot-light grabbing brat."

"Oh?" Malfoy arched a brow, leaning forwards once more. "Let's make a list then, shall we? Choosing to go after the Dark Lord and wrestling back the Philosopher's Stone at the age of eleven; joining the quidditch team so that you were the youngest player in a century; fought off a Basilisk to save the girl in second year; produced a Patronus and chased after a known criminal; illegally put your name forward for the bloody Tri-Wizard Tournament - and was _chosen_ ; fought the Dark Lord in the Ministry of Magic and was in the newspaper for it; went up against the Dark Lord again and again and again; and then sacrificed your life for everyone else so that you would be forever immortalised as the gallant hero that you are. Did I miss anything?"

Harry stared at him a moment then burst into laughter. "Malfoy, only you could twist all those things into attention-seeking acts!"

Malfoy glowered at him; disappointed that his list hadn't embarrassed Harry.

"And how on earth did you remember all that stuff so easily?" Harry asked, grinning. "I certainly captured _your_ attention."

The blond dropped his gaze as he uncrossed his arms and moodily flipped to the next page in the textbook.

Harry raised his brow at the tinge of pink colouring those pale, defined cheekbones; he didn't think it was possible to embarrass the composed Slytherin. "You… you don't _really_ think I did what I did for attention, do you?" Harry asked eventually, a part of him inexplicably concerned that Malfoy actually believed him capable of that sort of Lockhart-esque behaviour.

Malfoy placed a finger on his place in the book before glancing up. "You know, according to this textbook - it would make sense; a young boy grows up starved for attention and affection, suddenly tries everything in his power to garner recognition and adoration from the rest of the world…"

The light in Harry's green eyes dimmed a little at this proclamation.

"Yet…" Malfoy continued reflectively, "you always seemed surprised or embarrassed by the ensuing gratitude. I used to think it was all an act…"

"And now?" Harry asked.

Malfoy couldn't help but smile a little at the hope in Harry's expression. "Why do you care about what I think Potter? You never have before."

Harry shrugged and squirmed a little in his seat. "This situation has made me come to realise that what I thought of you in the past wasn't entirely accurate, and… and I guess I was just hoping that it was doing the same for you." Harry stopped and realised how ridiculous he sounded. He shook his head as if to clear it. "Nevermind, it doesn't matter what you think of me."

"Of course it matters," Malfoy interjected, his words halting Harry as he made to stand. "Trust has to go both ways, doesn't it?"

Harry swallowed. "Yes," he replied slowly. "It does."

Malfoy nodded, still holding his gaze. "For what it's worth, I don't think you're egotistical and attention-seeking anymore."

Harry let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "And I don't think you're narcissistic and evil."

Malfoy lips twitched into a tiny smirk. "Good, glad we could clear that up."

Harry smiled a little, still finding himself unable to tear his eyes away from Malfoy's expression; the slight smirk and the teasing grey eyes were doing strange fluttering things to his stomach. He quickly stood and forced his gaze back to the Christmas tree behind him.

"Well, I guess I should continue decorating - _by myself_ ," Harry emphasized good-naturedly, trying to dispel the strange feeling swirling inside of him.

"Enjoy yourself Potter."

Harry glanced at Malfoy's casual teasing expression for a moment before the blond lowered his gaze and lost himself in the book once more.

Harry turned and walked out of the room to gather the last of the Christmas decorations from the hall - and to hopefully get some sort of a grip on himself.

He closed the dining room door behind him and quickly walked into the foyer where he leaned back against the wall. Harry carefully analysed his feelings towards Malfoy - and came to only one conclusion: he was attracted to the Slytherin.

Harry laughed out loud and quickly clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle it. Even the very thought was preposterous. Sure Malfoy was handsome; he'd be blind not to notice that, but surely there wasn't anything else there? They were getting along a lot better than before but nothing even close to resembling a normal functioning friendship. While they could tease and banter back and forth, and even delve into some serious discussions, they were still treading very carefully around each other. There was a truce in place but still a tenuous one.

Harry shook his head, running his hands into his thick hair and pulling on the strands a little manically. It was just the close proximity and confined quarters that were messing with his feelings. He was just lonely and depraved, that's all.

He tried to shut out the logical part of himself that questioned why this hadn't happened with the last male client at Grimmauld Place then.

Harry released his hold on his hair and bent down to grab the cardboard box from off of the floor at his feet.

Even if his feelings were natural and real, it was seriously unethical for him to even entertain thoughts of Malfoy in that way. The man was here for his help - not to be the object of some ridiculous and inappropriate crush. Merlin, if Malfoy only knew what he was thinking…

Harry shook his head and tightened his hold on the heavy box. He was just going to have to watch himself from now on and forget about this absurdly ill-timed fixation.

Harry quietly pushed back into the dining room with his box held aloft. He glanced at Malfoy before he could stop himself and caught the blond staring off into space before grey eyes blinked and he acknowledged Harry with a friendly nod before returning to his book.

Harry clenched his teeth when his heart skipped a beat and he walked swiftly to the fireplace and dropped the box onto the floor with a little more force than was necessary.

It seemed that now he had acknowledged his feelings, they were running rampant, like he'd somehow opened Pandora's Box.

He frowned and bent down to open the cardboard box, beginning to set out the rest of the decorations on the mantel. His heart just wasn't in it anymore; too many thoughts and questions spinning round and round his head now that the initial shock of his Malfoy crush revelation had worn off. He stood with his back to Malfoy but he'd never been so aware of another person's presence in a room before; he felt kind of hot and stiff, as though his body couldn't relax and was thrumming with a nervous prickling energy.

He was just about to give up and head to his bedroom to escape the self-induced strain when suddenly Malfoy was there standing right next to him.

"Ah!" Harry jumped, startled, causing Malfoy to laugh. "Sorry, just… uh, didn't hear you," Harry explained weakly, his heart hammering in his chest.

Malfoy smirked. "I just didn't think I'd get the chance ever again, so… here I am."

Harry blinked, his heart suddenly thudding even more erratically in his chest. "W-what?" he stammered in confusion.

Malfoy's smirk faltered as he glanced at the decorations Harry had already placed on the mantel. "Helping you with the Christmas decorating?" he reminded him slowly.

Harry laughed faintly. "Yeah, of course that's what you meant. I mean, of course you can help."

Malfoy continued to stare at him as though he was mental while Harry bent down to retrieve some more decorations, his cheeks heating with embarrassment.

Merlin, how was he supposed to do his job if he was going to fall apart this easily?

He held out some sparkly red and green decorations without looking up and felt Malfoy carefully take them from his outstretched hand. He deftly ignored the faint touch of Malfoy's skin against his own.

Harry collected a small family of porcelain penguins wearing cheery holiday scarves from the box and straightened up to place them on the wooden mantel.

"Are you alright Potter?"

Harry swallowed, feeling Malfoy's eyes on him. "Yeah, just a bit… tired, I think."

Malfoy paused in his decorating. "Are you still taking Dreamless Sleep?"

The concern in the Slytherin's voice almost did him in. Harry kept his eyes firmly on the penguin family in front of him as he replied. "Yeah, I… I don't really know what else to do," he admitted honestly.

"Harry…" Malfoy uttered with a sigh of disapproval.

Hearing his given name spoken in such a way from Malfoy made Harry turn his head to look at him - which was a big mistake; they were standing so close that Harry could see the individual flecks of dark grey in his eyes. His breath caught in his throat.

"Maybe we could help each other," Malfoy offered quietly.

"How do you mean?" Harry asked uncertainly, feeling flustered and trying to lean away without the blond noticing.

"I mean, while you're helping me out with my future and dealing with my past, maybe I could be helping you with the same thing?"

A part of Harry wanted to scoff, to say that he didn't need anyone's help - especially not Draco Malfoy's - but the automatic response borne of years of animosity died in his throat. Malfoy didn't deserve a reaction like that, it wasn't who he was now, and it wasn't who Harry was anymore either. Malfoy was simply offering because he actually cared.

"Deal," Harry replied instead, smiling hesitantly.

Malfoy looked pleasantly surprised as he smiled in response.

Harry quickly turned away from him to place the last penguin on the mantel before he could do anything stupid and ruin the moment with his stupid crushy emotions. "I think I'm going to call it an early night," he said casually, deciding that the best course of action right now would be to just leave the scene and, hopefully, tomorrow he would wake up without this ridiculous Malfoy infatuation.

Malfoy opened his mouth to speak then seemed to hesitate before finally nodding and bidding him goodnight.

Harry smiled and left the room, trying not to rush as he walked out and up the stairs to his bedroom where he collapsed face-down on his bed. He knew sleep would not come easily - or probably at all - that night.

 **. . . .**

Hours later, Harry was jolted out of his thoughts and he wasn't quite sure why at first until he heard the distant sound of screaming coming from the floor above him. His bedroom was now pitch-black and he hadn't even bothered to turn on a light as the day gave way to night.

Feeling slightly disoriented, Harry jumped off of his bed and raced out the door and upstairs to Malfoy's room. The door wasn't locked and he burst through, the door bouncing off of the wall behind it with a loud bang.

Malfoy was under the blankets, thrashing and gasping, and obviously in the midst of a rather intense nightmare.

Harry ran over to the bed and carefully sat on the edge as he placed his hands on Malfoy's shoulders and held him in place. "Malfoy!" he called out. "Malfoy, wake up!"

The blond continued to cry out and struggle against him.

Without a second thought, Harry climbed onto the bed and straddled Malfoy's waist as he applied more pressure to his shoulders to pin him in place. "Draco!" he tried insistently. "Draco, it's okay. It isn't real."

Malfoy let loose a scream of pure pain and Harry thought he'd hurt him for a second but then realised it was still the nightmare.

Harry quickly leaned in close to his ear. "Draco, wake up," he said quietly but firmly. "Draco, it's Harry. Wake up."

Draco gasped then took a deep breath in and held it, frozen for a moment, back arched and body taut, then exhaled with a quiet whimper and went still.

Harry slowly released the pressure on Malfoy's shoulders but remained where he was, a part of him worried that Malfoy wasn't quite out of the nightmare just yet.

Blond lashes fluttered then opened to reveal dilated black pupils surrounded by a pool of dark grey. Draco stared up at the ceiling for a moment with glazed eyes, then his gaze slowly came to rest on Harry's face hovering above him in the darkened room.

Harry suddenly realised the compromising position he was currently in and quickly made to move off of the man.

A pale hand shot out and grabbed onto his wrist in a cold, vice-like grip.

Harry swallowed, watching the Slytherin's expression warily.

Draco stared at him a moment before speaking. "Thank you," he finally said quietly.

Harry blinked in surprise then let out the breath he'd been holding. "You're welcome," he replied gently. "Are you all right?"

The grip on his wrist was released and Harry carefully shifted off to the side of the bed.

Draco sighed and pushed himself up to lean against the headboard, looking pale and shaken in the moonlight flooding through the window.

"Yes, I…" he stopped and swallowed, closing his eyes for a brief moment, "I haven't had one that bad in a long time."

"Do you have them often?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Not as much as I used to, maybe once or twice a month now."

Harry nodded in understanding.

Draco looked at him. "I used to take Dreamless Sleep but I found that the more I relied on it, the more I needed it."

"What do you mean?"

"I think the more I tried to bury the nightmares the more my mind was crying out for them. As irrational as it sounds, I think perhaps these nightmares are a way of dealing with my emotions, and if I try to suppress them, the longer it'll take to heal in the long run."

Harry frowned, contemplating Malfoy's theory.

"And I found that when I stopped taking the potion, the nightmares began to diminish on their own after a while," he added.

Harry's smile was soft and slightly amazed. "You really want me to stop taking them, don't you?"

"Yes," Malfoy replied with a certainty that made Harry's heart lurch. "It's been two years since the war Potter; you can't go on like this forever."

Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from the strength and resolve and _concern_ in Draco's gaze. It felt like it had been years since anyone had looked at him like that; like Harry's wellbeing and happiness was of the utmost importance. No one knew how much he had struggled since the war; the nightmares, the exhaustion, the absolute loneliness… He had kept it all to himself, never wanting to complain, but Malfoy knew what he was going through without him having to say a word…

Harry suddenly blinked and the shocked expression on Malfoy's face made him realise that he had been leaning towards the blond with a glassy-eyed gaze zeroed in on softly parted lips.

Harry's green eyes widened in horror and he jerked back, feeling as though he had just been doused in ice-cold water. His stomach jolted sickeningly at the obviousness of what he had been about to do.

He just stared at Malfoy, unable to speak or to look away, frozen in dread.

Draco swallowed and cleared his throat before offering a weak smile. "It's okay Potter," he finally said awkwardly. "I am fairly irresistible; if I'd known you were gay I would have warned you."

Harry groaned and dropped his head into his hands, cheeks flushing with humiliation. "I'm so sorry Malfoy, I… I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me." He peeked back up at the blond through his fingers. "Can we just pretend this never happened?"

"I'd prefer that we did."

Harry noticed with shame that Malfoy drew his legs up and away from him as he spoke. He couldn't help the twinge of hurt that accompanied Malfoy's words, no matter how much he deserved them. A part of him - however tiny - was kind of hoping that Malfoy felt the same way.

Harry quickly stood up and backed away towards the door. "Well, if you think you're okay now, I… I'll just head back to bed, er, my room."

Draco nodded, expression blank, and Harry turned and fairly flew from the room, closing the door behind him and rushing down the stairs to the safety of his bedroom.

Harry shut and locked the door before beginning to pace the floor of the small bedroom. He still felt as though he were going to be sick, the scene replaying over and over in his head until it became steadily worse, full of thoughts of what could have happened if he hadn't realised in time what he had been about to do.

Harry groaned and shook his head. He almost _kissed_ Malfoy, he had been seconds away from just leaning in and pressing his unwanted lips onto his clients' in his _fucking_ _bedroom_ while under his care.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…" Harry swore under his breath as he paced.

He'd never felt so ashamed of his actions. Malfoy was clearly not interested in him and Harry was lucky that the blond hadn't exploded and demanded to see Harry's superior for attempting to molest him in his bed. He could have lost his job… He still might when Malfoy wakes up and decides that this situation isn't purely professional anymore.

"Oh god…" Harry moaned as he sat on his bed. Tomorrow morning was going to be horribly awkward. Had he just undone all the progress that the two of them had achieved in the last three months?

Malfoy's words from earlier suddenly replayed in his mind: _trust has to go both ways, doesn't it?_

And now Harry had completely shattered that trust in a matter of seconds.

Harry lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

And somehow, the worst part of all this, was the fact that Draco Malfoy didn't want him in return.


	5. January

_Chapter Five - January_

Harry crept down the stairs at five-thirty in the morning and kept his eyes and ears trained to the staircase for any sign of Malfoy as he slipped into his dark blue raincoat in the foyer. Harry had lain awake all night and he knew the Slytherin hadn't left his room since Harry's disastrous visit in the middle of the night, and now, he just wanted to be able to make his escape before Malfoy woke up.

He opened the front door and quietly closed it behind him before shoving his hands into his coat pockets and striding up the footpath, head down against the rain.

He knew he was taking the coward's way out but he couldn't do it; he couldn't face Malfoy yet. The humiliation, not to mention the uncertainty of how the blond would behave today, had caused Harry to decide around four o'clock to make a hasty retreat to the outside world - where Malfoy couldn't follow.

Harry stopped in to one of the local coffee shops to pick up a dark roast coffee and a large Earl Grey for himself before showing up at Hermione's doorstep at a time when he knew her to be up and getting ready for work.

"Harry, I haven't seen you in ages!" she exclaimed with a smile as she opened the door, one hand absently running a wide-toothed comb through damp curly hair. "Oh my god you're amazing!" she added upon spying the coffee in his hand.

Harry grinned and handed over the steaming paper cup before stepping inside.

"So, what's up?" she asked as he followed her into the kitchen - where she was in the midst of burning toast apparently.

Harry set down his tea and shut off the toaster before it could spontaneously combust, and started making her some fresh toast as she sat on one of the bar stools to drink her coffee.

He turned to her, expression determined. "I want you to set me up."

Hermione choked on her drink and hurriedly placed the cup down on the counter. "As in…?"

"As in find me a boyfriend."

"Wow, okay…" Hermione replied with an incredulous laugh. "Why the sudden urgency?"

Harry frowned as he absently toyed with the teabag string hanging out of his cup. "I've just been thinking lately that… that it's high time I try to find someone to share my life with."

Hermione's grin of amusement faded as she watched her best friend. "Does this have something to do with Malfoy?"

Harry immediately scowled. "Why do you think everything has to do with Malfoy?"

"It was just a question," she replied calmly before taking another sip of her coffee, surveying him over the rim of her cup with a shrewd gaze. "Don't get me wrong Harry, I love that you're finally ready to jump into the dating world. We've been worried about you getting lonely and focusing on work too much."

Harry sighed and plucked Hermione's toast from the oven and started to spread it with some butter and strawberry jam. "Which is exactly why I need to make a change," he said resolutely.

Hermione smiled. "Okay, let me think on it for a bit. I need to find someone good enough for the Chosen One."

Harry grimaced and shot her a look. "Please don't call me that. I just want someone normal, who doesn't treat me any differently than anybody else."

"Hmm…" Hermione pursed her lips as she thought. "That's a tough one. You know that whoever it is will suddenly be thrust into the spotlight; the Prophet will do a huge spread on the wizard who finally managed to capture the Boy-Who-Lived's heart."

Harry made a retching noise as he placed her toast onto a plate and pushed it towards her across the island counter, causing Hermione to giggle. "Yeah well, that can't be helped," he said in reply. "So yes, he will need to be prepared for that - but not be with me _because_ of that."

Hermione nodded as she bit into the warm toast with a crunch. "What about your Auror?" she asked.

Harry frowned. "Who? Johannes?"

She nodded as she pushed a crumb off of her lips and into her mouth with one finger. "Yes, he seems nice, and he's certainly cute - and if I recall correctly, he looked as though he already had a thing for you."

Harry shook his head as he swallowed his tea. "Not a good idea. I work with him all the time, if it didn't work out… I'd lose my best co-worker."

"Okay." Hermione nodded, taking this in. "But is he your type? I need some tips for finding the love of your life Harry. I have no idea what you're even looking for in a partner; you've never talked about it before."

Harry frowned as a flash of blond hair, pale skin and intense grey eyes swept through his mind. He shrugged. "I just want someone I can talk to and have fun with, who challenges me, who doesn't care about what I did in the past and who just likes me for me." He paused and combed a hand through his unruly hair anxiously. "I know it's kind of a tall order…"

Hermione smiled sympathetically and shook her head. "No problem, I'm sure I work with a few blokes at the Ministry who would fit the bill. I'll suss them out and send you an owl. Do you want me to just set it up or do you want to approve the candidate first?"

Harry laughed. "I trust your judgment 'Mione. Just tell me where to be and when and I'll show up, and the sooner the better."

"Done." Hermione downed the last of her coffee and stood. "Now, I'd better get going before I'm late."

"I'll see myself out," Harry said affably as he collected his tea and started walking towards the front door.

Hermione stopped him with a spontaneous hug on his way past. "I do hope you're okay," she said quietly.

Harry gave her a one-armed hug in return, his other hand preoccupied with holding hot tea. "I'm great, really," he said, the response so automatic that he didn't even notice the lie anymore. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Hermione smiled and nodded as she pulled back. "I can't wait to tell Ron," she added mischievously.

Harry rolled his eyes at her before heading to the front door. He walked out the door and strolled up the street, using his one free hand to flip the hood of his coat back over his head to protect against the onslaught of rain.

He really didn't want to go home yet but knew he didn't have a choice; it was time to face the music, and Harry Potter was nothing if not brave when it came to things that he didn't wish to confront.

Harry walked in the front door of Grimmauld Place with an empty cup and with no clear idea about what to do: search Malfoy out and apologise profusely or just pretend that nothing had happened…?

Turns out Malfoy himself had a plan.

"Potter."

Harry looked up as Malfoy walked out from the direction of the kitchen, a steaming mug of coffee cupped in both hands.

"Hey," Harry greeted him neutrally, eyes searching the blond's face for any trace of lingering anger or disgust.

A hint of a wry smile hung around Malfoy's mouth as he stared back. "I didn't think you were going to come back."

Harry couldn't help but give a feeble laugh, a part of him relaxing a little at Malfoy's easy tone. "That wouldn't be very professional of me," he replied, then could've kicked himself for using those particular words after his shameful behaviour last night. "Listen Malfoy-"

"Forget it."

Harry frowned. "But-"

Malfoy shook his head firmly. "I mean it Potter; just forget it and we'll continue on as before."

Harry swallowed. "Yeah alright. Thanks."

Malfoy nodded. "Have you eaten?"

Harry shook his head.

The two made their way to the kitchen in companionable silence and Harry sat at the table, watching as Malfoy busied himself with cooking up a hot breakfast for the both of them, including a large pot of Harry's favourite tea.

They soon fell into their usual routine of talking and bantering and laughing, and soon Harry relaxed within the knowledge that Malfoy obviously didn't hold a grudge and everything could be as it was.

 **. . . .**

Harry looked up as a large tawny owl suddenly rapped sharply on the dirt-encrusted window of the formal dining room. He bounded up from off of the floor from where he had been packing up the Christmas decorations and ran over to open the window.

He took the letter from the owl's clutches and the owl immediately flew off with the heavy beating sound of large wings.

"You never get mail," Draco ruminated aloud from where he stood flipping through an ancient copy of 'The Night Before Christmas.'

"Thanks for pointing that out," Harry replied deprecatingly as he ripped into the white envelope. He opened the folded letter to see Hermione's neat scrawl.

' _Harry,_

 _I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and New Year, although I know for a fact that you didn't go anywhere or actually have any fun. Next year you are taking time off and coming to The Burrow - no arguments!_

 _I'm writing because I've found the perfect boyfriend for you! His name is Jeremy Stretton. You may remember him from Hogwarts, he was a couple years ahead of us in Ravenclaw and a Chaser for their house team. At first I thought that maybe you wouldn't want someone from Hogwarts but then I thought that it might help because he's already used to seeing you around and won't be in awe of you._

 _If you don't remember him, he is tall with light brown hair, brown eyes and, to be frank, bloody gorgeous. There was definitely a collective sigh of disappointment when the office girls found out that he was gay. Anyway, he works in the Department of International Magical Co-operation, not sure what his position is exactly but you don't want to know too much or else you won't have anything to talk about on your date._

 _I asked him if he'd let me set him up with a friend of mine and, while I didn't want to tell him it was you right away, he worked it out for himself. He said yes he'd be interested and so I've arranged for him to meet you for lunch at the Bloom and Willow Café in Diagon Alley tomorrow at noon. If this doesn't work with your schedule then please let me know as soon as possible, otherwise he will see you then. Oh and he will be wearing a dark blue top._

 _I'm so excited for you Harry! He seems very nice and down-to-earth; I hope you two hit it off. Ever since you've asked me to do this, I've been thinking how much you deserve to have a constant partner in life; someone reliable and loyal and loving._

 _Good luck! Let me know how it went!_

 _With Love,  
Hermione_

Harry swallowed and felt his stomach jolt unpleasantly with nervousness. While a blind date had sounded good at the time two weeks ago, now he wasn't so sure...

"What's the news Potter?"

Harry blinked and looked up. He'd forgotten that Malfoy was even in the room. "Erm… just a letter from Hermione," he replied vaguely.

Malfoy frowned slightly as he dropped the book into the box at his feet. "You look like you've had bad news."

Harry forced a wry smile as he tucked the letter back into the envelope. "Sort of, she's sending me on a blind date tomorrow."

Malfoy looked up sharply. "She's what?"

Harry laughed uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Malfoy's gaze. "Yeah, she's apparently found me the perfect boyfriend and has set up a meet and greet tomorrow at lunch."

Grey eyes narrowed for a moment, then the blond turned away and continued to sift through the different Christmas decorations scattered at his feet. "So who is it?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Erm, Jeremy someone," Harry replied self-consciously. "He was in Ravenclaw a few years ahead of us." He glanced over at Malfoy but he wasn't looking at him. Harry chewed his lip; the atmosphere had grown inexplicably cold between the two of them suddenly. "Do you know him?"

"No."

Harry unconsciously clenched the envelope in his hands, crumpling the paper. He didn't know what Malfoy's problem was, unless he had an issue with the whole homosexuality thing.

"Do you really think it's acceptable to go off on _dates_ whilst treating someone who is imprisoned?"

Harry gaped in surprise then felt a tiny flicker of annoyance. "It's actually none of your business what I do with my free time Malfoy, I only told you because I thought you should know that I wouldn't be around for lunch tomorrow and why."

Icy grey eyes finally turned on him. "Don't even think about bringing him back here to fuck around with in your bedroom Potter."

"What?" Harry's annoyance quickly turned to disbelief. "That's not even… I wouldn't… God, Malfoy what is your problem? You already know that no one is allowed to come here except the two Aurors. And, not that it's any of your business, but I wouldn't be _fucking around_ on a first date."

Malfoy folded his arms across his chest as his eyes narrowed. "No you just molest innocent men in their beds."

Harry's hands clenched in anger. "I've already apologised for that," he ground out. "So when you said to forget about it, what you really meant to say was that you want to be able to bring it up at any time to humiliate me."

Malfoy's nostrils flared as he stared back.

Harry turned and quickly fled the room before the Slytherin could say anything else. He stormed up the stairs to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. It was a very juvenile move but he didn't care, he wanted Malfoy to know that his behaviour had upset him.

And why the fuck did Malfoy care so much if he went out on a date? Was he really that jealous of Harry's freedom…

Harry tossed Hermione's letter onto his bedside table and collapsed onto his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Okay, so maybe the fact that Harry was free to move on with his life and have relationships was probably like rubbing salt in the wound, but the git didn't have to bring up the whole almost kissing him thing again.

Harry sighed, feeling his anger ebb away as he slid his hands behind his head. He decided that he would go on this date with Jeremy tomorrow, and then if it went well, he would tell the other man that he couldn't start up a relationship just yet. He would just wait a month and a half until Malfoy was gone and then try to resume some semblance of a normal twenty-year old's life.

Harry frowned thoughtfully as he considered his feelings on his upcoming date with the 'bloody gorgeous' Ravenclaw. He kind of didn't like the sound of that; some hot guy that everyone in the office wanted to date, but he did trust Hermione's judgment and knew that she wouldn't just pick someone on their looks alone. The fact that he was a Ravenclaw boded well for his intelligence at least...

Harry's frown deepened as a treacherous part of his mind wished that the man was from Slytherin instead. Hermione's description of him being 'very nice' suddenly sounded utterly boring.

Harry rolled over onto his side with an angry huff. Living with his Malfoy attraction had obviously had some adverse effects on his sanity. Suddenly 'nice' and 'down-to-earth' sounded too tedious for him. His attraction to Draco hadn't lessened at all in the past few weeks, in fact, it had almost gotten worse, but he was getting quite good at hiding it now. The very thought of Malfoy finding out about him harbouring a crush was enough to keep the whole thing buried deep within him.

Harry almost moaned aloud at the ache for flashing grey eyes, sarcastic tongue, teasing smirk and pale skin…

Merlin, he needed a distraction _badly_ \- and this blind date tomorrow would hopefully do the trick.

 **. . . .**

Harry slipped into his black woolen coat for his date, green eyes glancing up the stairs, but he hadn't seen Malfoy since last night. The blond had holed up in his room ever since, not even coming out for a coffee that morning, which Harry knew to be a very serious demonstration of his current emotional state.

A part of him wanted to make sure that Malfoy was alright before leaving but he also didn't want another lecture on how to do his job, so he just finished buttoning up his coat and walked out the door. He would deal with Malfoy when he got home. Telling the blond that he had no further plans to date during his stay would hopefully go a long way towards mending the rift between them.

Harry Apparated to Diagon Alley and slowly made his way through the crowd towards the Bloom and Willow Café. Now that he could focus on something other than Malfoy and his sensitive feelings, it meant that the nerves were starting to creep in.

Harry's palms began to feel a bit sweaty in his pockets and he quickly took them out to air since their meeting would most likely begin with a handshake.

He spotted the cream and gold writing on the café's pale green awning and forced his feet to move towards it. He pushed open the door and swallowed nervously as he looked around the popular eatery. He couldn't see anyone in a blue top that matched Jeremy's description. A quick glance at the clock on the wall showed that he was a bit early, so he quickly took a seat in the back, facing the door.

What if Jeremy saw him and then walked out because he didn't like what he saw?

The thought terrified him for all of two seconds before he remembered that Jeremy already knew what he looked like.

"Well there's one perk to being famous anyway," Harry muttered under his breath as he picked up his menu and pretended to read it.

Seven minutes later, Harry was just beginning to wonder if he was being stood up when a tall wizard with light brown hair and a navy blue shirt walked through the door.

Harry gulped as he watched the man search the crowded café for a moment before friendly brown eyes landed on him and a shy smile broke out over his face.

Harry returned the smile and held up his hand in an awkward little wave which he immediately regretted.

Jeremy weaved his way through the tables and chairs and stopped next to Harry. "I was just thinking that it wasn't very fair that I already knew what you looked like but you had no idea about me - unless by some miracle you actually remembered me from Hogwarts. So if you want to make a run for it, by all means…"

Harry smiled despite his nervousness and kicked out the chair across from him in answer.

"Oh thank Merlin," Jeremy exhaled as he dropped his coat onto the chair-back and took a seat. "That would have been horribly embarrassing if you'd just up and left."

Harry laughed and picked up his menu again for something to do with his hands.

"Sorry I'm late," Jeremy continued, looking at Harry across the table and looking just as nervous as Harry felt. "I wasn't playing it cool, I promise you."

"No problem, you weren't that late," Harry said, then added with a smile, "but I did start to worry that I was being stood up."

Jeremy looked alarmed by the very idea. "Not a chance," he replied gravely. "Hermione Granger assured me that we were going to be soul mates so there's no way I was going to pass that up."

Harry stared, alarm bells ringing in his head, until Jeremy cracked a smile and then he laughed.

"The look on your face Harry," Jeremy chuckled.

"Did she really say that though?" Harry asked, cringing.

"Yeah, sort of," he replied in amusement. "I think she was just trying to sell you a little too enthusiastically."

Harry groaned and shook his head, mortified.

"Luckily I already knew what you were like from Hogwarts."

Harry took a sip of his water then set it down again. "Erm, I'm sorry I don't really remember you…"

Jeremy smiled and waved a hand dismissively. "I don't blame you; you had other things on your mind."

Harry smiled. "Which is why I'm sitting here," he replied. "I feel like I've been run off my feet since I was eleven years old, so not much time for dating. I'm making time for it now though."

"I'm glad," Jeremy smiled.

Harry returned the look, a sense of happy contentment settling over him as he sat and had lunch with another man who seemed genuinely unfazed by Harry's name. Jeremy's gaze was firmly glued to Harry the entire time and he was interested in what Harry had to say. He was kind and had a sense of humour…

What more could he ask for?

 **. . . .**

Harry slowly felt his body begin to unwind as he walked from the Apparation point back to Grimmauld Place about an hour and a half later. Although he'd had a good time with Jeremy, a first date was always a little like a job interview; slightly on edge the entire time.

He took his time strolling along the damp footpath, thinking about his lunch date. Jeremy had been great; everything Hermione had promised and more. They'd already spoken about going out again, for dinner next time, but Harry had kept his promise and explained that he couldn't have a second date just yet. Jeremy had been very understanding and Harry had left with a handshake and the promise of contacting him when he was free again.

Harry turned up the pathway to Grimmauld Place, feeling content with his decision to take the next step in life; to be the mature adult that he was and pursue a nice, stable relationship.

Harry's good mood was quickly replaced by the distinct feeling of dread as he pushed through the front door, wondering if Malfoy was going to show his face. Hopefully the blond would apologise for his behaviour and things could return to normal. He really didn't want to spend the next month and a half in icy silence after they'd been getting along so well.

Harry closed the door behind him and glanced around as he removed his coat and hung it on the wall hook. The house was dark except for a slight glow emanating from the direction of the kitchen.

He paused, wondering if he felt up to another row with Malfoy right now.

"Just get it over with," Harry muttered under his breath as he started for the stairs that lead down to the basement kitchen.

Harry jogged down the steps and walked through the doorway, his eyes immediately landing on Malfoy, who was leaning his hands on the kitchen counter, staring down at what appeared to be an assortment of untouched sandwich ingredients.

Harry frowned at the distressed look on the Slytherin's face, his earlier irritation fading away. He moved closer and leaned his hip sideways against the counter next to him. "Malfoy? Everything alright?" he asked quietly.

The blond's eyes closed briefly before he turned and began to walk past Harry towards the stairs, ignoring him.

Harry's hand shot out and grabbed his arm. "Malfoy, wait-"

Harry gasped as Malfoy suddenly whirled and threw his hand off of him, grey eyes flashing dangerously. "Don't touch me Potter."

"What is your problem?" Harry demanded.

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at him. "Have fun on your little date?" he sneered.

Harry frowned, thrown by the sudden subject change. He stared at Malfoy searchingly for a moment. "You're jealous," he surmised.

"Jealous?" Malfoy spat caustically.

"Yes, jealous."

"Of _what_?"

"Of the fact that I went on a date and spent time with someone that wasn't you," Harry replied swiftly, not at all confident of what he was saying but knowing that Malfoy's anger was prompted by more than just the fact that Harry had a life outside of his job.

"You wish," Malfoy scoffed. "We both know about your perverted fantasies Potter."

Harry calmly pushed aside the instant flash of angered humiliation and focused on Malfoy's expression, not the words or the tone but his eyes and the little tells that Harry had slowly been becoming acquainted with over the last few months; the way Malfoy averted his gaze or the slight clenching of his jaw, the tiny twitch around his right eye…

It all added up to one thing: Malfoy was lying.

"I think it might be your fantasy too Malfoy," Harry replied evenly.

Grey eyes widened with a rage so swift and fierce that it had Harry taking a hesitant step backwards. "Fuck you Potter," Malfoy growled before turning and striding from the room.

Harry felt his whole body go limp as the on-edge tension suddenly left him. He folded his arms on the counter and rested his forehead on top as he breathed shallowly.

He knew he was right; he knew deep down that Malfoy hadn't liked the idea of him going on a date right from the beginning - but not for the reason he'd originally suspected. Malfoy had never had a problem with Harry visiting Ron or Hermione, or going shopping, or anything else that reminded him that Harry was free and he was not. But this date with another man had him instantly reverting back to his Hogwarts demeanour; the sneering, the inexplicable anger, the haughty disdain…

Malfoy was jealous. Malfoy was jealous because he had feelings for him.

Harry exhaled and straightened up. "Or perhaps that's just wishful thinking," he uttered cynically, suddenly unsure again now that the emotional blond wasn't standing in front of him anymore.

Harry slowly began to pack up all the food Malfoy had left out on the counter before retiring to the library to make some more notes and do some much needed studying. His heart gave a twinge as he remembered the _reason_ that he had been neglecting his school work lately: too preoccupied with having fun with Malfoy.

He leaned on one elbow as he stared unseeing across the small room. He wasn't going to let this latest argument affect his duty, even if Malfoy never spoke to him again the whole time he was there, it had no bearing on Harry's final decision.

Harry snorted and shook his head. He already knew what he was going to do; he'd known it for a while. Draco Malfoy was no threat to the general wizarding population or even to Muggles. The way Malfoy spoke of Voldemort and of his father made it very clear how the Slytherin felt towards the past. Even if he had made conscious bad choices back then, he had learnt from it; he felt regret, he felt wronged, and he wanted a normal life. Harry could definitely relate to that.

Harry sighed. They were so similar on so many levels, if only Malfoy would let him…

Harry shook his head and sat up in his chair. No sense dwelling on what will never be.

 **. . . .**

Red eyes glowed from out of the dark and Harry felt a searing pain across the scar on his forehead. He cried out in pain and tried to get away from the voice in his head, the voice telling him to do terrible things…

"Kill them! Exterminate them!"

The hissing voice switched between English and Parseltongue in Harry's head as he vainly tried to twist away from the overpowering directives. His body wouldn't listen to him and he could feel himself raising his wand towards the faceless family cowering on the floor in front of him.

Suddenly a part of him was so full of hate and ruthless anger towards these innocent people; he wanted to wipe them out, to take their lives…

It wasn't just a whisper in his ear; it was his own voice within his own head that wanted it. He opened his mouth, only too eager to speak the incantation: "Avada-"

"NO!" Harry screamed, and continued to scream, trying to speak overtop of the spell so that it couldn't be finished. It was as though he was split into two and he was at war with himself. "NOOOOO!"

" _HARRY_!"

Harry awoke with a shout and sat up so fast that the room spun around him, making his stomach turn over. He scrambled to where he knew the side of the bed should be and was sick over the edge. His stomach heaved so strongly that his whole body seemed to convulse with it. He closed his watering eyes, squeezing a few tears out, as he continued to vomit onto the floor with a sickening splash.

After another minute the retching finally slowed and then came to a stop. He collapsed onto the mattress, exhausted, his body drenched in a cold sweat beneath his t-shirt and light cotton pajama bottoms.

He slowly became aware of a hand rubbing soothing circles over his back and a low voice murmuring comforting words from above.

Harry opened his eyes and weakly turned his head to one side to look up.

Malfoy was sitting next to him on his bed, a look of such complete understanding on his face in the moonlight that it made Harry want to sob out loud.

"What are you doing here?" Harry whispered weakly.

Malfoy swallowed but didn't look away. "You were screaming."

Harry frowned and forced himself to sit up, his arms shaking beneath him with the effort. "But I locked my door," he said faintly. He glanced over to see his bedroom door kicked in, bits of wood hanging off of the frame. He looked back at Malfoy as though searching for an answer. "Why?"

Malfoy shrugged. "If it was me, I would want someone to interrupt a nightmare that horrific."

Harry swallowed then winced at the bitter taste of leftover spew.

"Do you want some water?"

Harry regarded him warily for a moment then shook his head. "No, it's alright, I'll just take a potion."

Malfoy frowned. "I thought you'd given that up."

"I did," Harry replied shortly, "but I can't do it anymore. And why should I?"

"Because it's dangerous."

Harry glared, his exhaustion spurring him on even as his body still trembled from the after-effects of his nightmare. "I don't fucking care, all right? I don't care if it's addictive and I have to take one every night to get by. I don't care if it has terrible side-effects or shortens my life in the long run. I can't live like this. I can't close my eyes without feeling Voldemort in my head every fucking time. I can't keep falling asleep and feeling like that monster is still inside of me, not knowing if he really _is_ still there, making me do things - making me _want_ to do things…"

He broke off and shakily pushed himself off the bed to his feet.

Malfoy hurriedly followed as Harry walked to his potions trunk and firmly placed his hand on the lid, stopping Harry from opening it.

"Move," Harry ordered warningly.

"No," he replied steadfastly, steel grey eyes fixed on Harry.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Step away Malfoy, this is none of your concern."

"Yes it is."

"No it's _not_!" Harry shouted in frustration. "You don't even like me! What do you care if I fucking die from an overdose?"

Malfoy made a noise in the back of his throat and grabbed onto Harry's biceps with both hands, shaking him once. He stared down into wide green eyes before suddenly pressing his lips to Harry's in a rough kiss.

Harry's gasp of surprise was quickly swallowed up by Malfoy's tongue and teeth and the warm press of insistent lips. It only took a second for Harry's brain to catch up and he closed his eyes with a moan as he surrendered to every touch and taste.


	6. February

_Chapter Six: February  
_

Not wanting to stop the kiss but needing to breathe, Harry reluctantly pulled back a couple of inches and opened his eyes. He was scared of what he'd see; that Malfoy would have regret or anger or disgust - or perhaps all three - written all over his face.

The soft look of wonder and just the tiniest hint of amusement had Harry exhaling in relief.

Grey eyes flitted around Harry's face, as though trying to read his thoughts.

"I don't know what to say," Harry said on a breath, staring back at him. "I didn't think…" He stopped, not really wanting to remind Mal- _Draco_ of what he'd said before.

Draco swallowed but didn't pull away. "I know. I was an idiot."

"I never thought I'd hear _you_ say that," Harry replied, raising his brow with a slight smile.

Draco's expression relaxed a little and he suddenly seemed to remember that his hands were still clenching Harry's biceps rather tightly. He instantly released him and, not knowing what else to do with his hands, took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

Harry tried not to worry about the sudden distance between them. He used the moment to walk over to his nightstand and take a few gulps of tepid water from the glass he kept there. He put it back down then sat on the edge of his bed, looking up at Draco expectantly.

"Now what?" he finally forced himself to ask.

Draco exhaled and, after hesitating a moment, sat down beside Harry. "I don't really know, I hadn't thought this far ahead."

Harry laughed softly, feeling the tension ebb away at the slight smile on Draco's face. "Did you only kiss me to stop me from taking the potion?"

Draco turned to look at him with a puzzled expression. "Of course."

Harry felt his stomach drop and Draco frowned as he watched Harry's reaction. "I want you to stop taking the potion because I know what it's like to become reliant on it and how hard it is to stop. I want you to stop taking the potion because… well, I care about you."

Harry felt a little glow of happiness at Draco's words, even if they weren't a definitive admission of his intentions. Well, he'd come this far, he might as well push it before he lost his only chance. "You care about me?" he repeated.

Draco smirked at Harry's not-so-subtle attempt at fishing. "Yes Potter, I would've thought the kiss spelt that out quite clearly for you, but perhaps you aren't that perceptive. Or perhaps you get kissed like that all the time…?"

Harry laughed and shook his head. "No, believe me; that does not happen often. Or at all," he mumbled.

Draco's smirk softened as he looked down at his hands clasped together in his lap. "I think I owe you an apology. Harry," he added as an after-thought.

Harry looked over at him. "What for?"

Draco sighed and continued to stare at his hands, fingers absently twisting together. "For lots of things I suppose," he said with a reluctant smile, "but mostly for turning you away that night when you were going to kiss me. I didn't know you were interested in me that way, let alone that you were gay, so it was a bit of a shock." He stopped his fidgeting and turned to look at Harry. "I wanted you to kiss me so badly that it kind of scared me to be honest."

Harry smiled a little at the sincerity in Draco's eyes. He knew his attraction went beyond just the physical, he'd seen enough of the other man without his guard up to know that he had a lot to offer the world - and a lot to offer a partner if ever they were so lucky to have him. It may be hard for Draco to open up to people but once he did, there was so much there worth exploring. The Slytherin had a capacity for fierce loyalty and compassion that surprised Harry on a daily basis.

"Are you still scared?" Harry asked quietly, daring to reach up and brush a wayward strand of platinum hair out of Draco's eyes. His hair was soft to the touch and Harry let his fingers linger as he tucked it behind Draco's ear.

Draco seemed to melt into the touch a moment before he replied. "No, I know what I want now."

"What do you want?" Harry whispered, gaze transfixed on his fingers as they slid out of Draco's hair and trailed down the side of his neck.

Darkened grey eyes fixed on green as he leaned forward to capture Harry's lips in another searing kiss.

Harry couldn't stop the breathy moan from escaping as his eyes fell shut of their own accord and he kissed Draco back for all he was worth, tilting his head to one side and opening his mouth to Draco's probing tongue. There was no gradual build-up or tender exploring; the kiss was instantly hot and heated. For Harry, the build-up had been the last few weeks, and perhaps, judging by Draco's intense reaction, he felt the same way.

Without breaking the kiss, Draco shifted on the bed and slid one hand up Harry's arm to his shoulder and pushed slightly. Harry immediately lay back on the bed and Draco moved with him, covering him with his body, molding perfectly against Harry's fit and willing body.

Harry broke off with a gasp as Draco's hips unconsciously thrust down into him. Harry arched up and squeezed his eyes shut at the sensation of sparks igniting in his groin. Draco kissed his way down Harry's throat and back up to capture his lips in another needy kiss.

Harry moaned as he spread his legs enough for Draco's hips to settle between his thighs, the press of Draco's hard length against his own ignited a fire within his body that he didn't even know was possible. He felt wanton and crazy with need and lust… It was a heady out-of-control sensation he'd never experienced before.

Draco rolled his hips again, causing them both to moan aloud. "Merlin I'm so close already…" he said breathlessly.

"Me too," Harry agreed, firmly pressing his hips up into Draco's body. "Don't stop."

Draco's lips moved back to Harry's panting mouth and he kissed him deeply as he began to thrust in earnest, the ancient bed creaking beneath them with the movement.

Harry could feel his body tensing and he squeezed his eyes shut. His tongue feverishly stroked against and around Draco's as he suddenly free-fell into an intense orgasm that had him tearing his mouth away to cry out with the force of it, back arching off of the bed.

Draco stared hungrily, transfixed by Harry's expression of pure pleasure, as he continued to thrust against him. It didn't take long for his own release to come, and he pulsed hotly into his pants as he groaned aloud, eyes finally falling closed as he froze in place.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco as the blond collapsed onto his forearms on either side of him, breathing heavily with eyes shut. Harry turned his face into Draco's neck and inhaled the smell of sweat and Draco; it was a wonderful and addicting mix, one that he could get used to very easily.

"Wow…" he couldn't help exclaiming softly, his breath rustling the blond hairs at the nape of Draco's neck.

"Yeah," Draco panted before slowly opening his eyes. He looked down at Harry's flushed face, glazed green eyes and messy black hair sprawled on the pillow beneath him. He seemed to drink in the sight for a moment, memorizing it, before sliding off to the side and lying next to him.

After a moment, Harry reached for his glass of water and took a sip. Draco held out his hand once he'd finished and Harry silently passed it over. After they'd both had a drink they stared up at the ceiling as their breathing and heart rates returned to normal. Draco reached for Harry's hand and clasped it between them, causing Harry to smile at the reassuring gesture.

He could hardly believe what had just happened, even with the evidence cooling into a sticky mess in his pants. It had all happened so fast… When Draco had rejected him that night, he'd never entertained the idea that perhaps the blond had been secretly harbouring the same feelings. It all felt so surreal that Draco could possibly want him.

Harry turned onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at Draco. "So… I was right about you being jealous of my date, wasn't I?" he asked nonchalantly.

Draco turned to Harry with an arched brow. "Yes, if you must know. I… I don't do well with sharing."

Harry grinned. "I didn't know I was yours to share."

Draco smiled unwillingly. "You are now," he said with quiet resolution, one hand reaching out to comb through Harry's sweat-dampened hair.

Harry felt that little glow within him again at Draco's words. "Is that what you want?" he asked, needing to know. "A proper relationship?"

Draco looked into his eyes. "Yes, I think I do - if that's what you want?"

Harry turned onto his stomach, chin resting on folded arms. "Yeah, I do."

"If I'm not going to Azkaban, that is."

Harry's face seemed to drain of all colour. "Shit…" he swore, sitting up abruptly.

Draco frowned and set the glass of water aside before turning back to Harry. "What is it?"

"This is _wrong_ ," Harry replied emphatically. "I mean, not us but… but the fact that you've been placed here under my professional supervision. I can't be… be-"

"Fucking the patient?" Draco replied with a smirk.

Harry glared. "I'm serious; we can't do this until…" he trailed off, knowing he needed to tell Draco, "until you're released next month."

Draco's smirk softened into a genuine smile as he looked at him. "You're probably not supposed to tell me things like that Harry," was all he said.

At the sight of Draco's warm smile, Harry's panic seemed to fade as quickly as it had come on. "I just thought you should know that I made my decision before this," he explained before flopping back down onto the bed.

"Well, for what it's worth, thank you," Draco replied sincerely.

Harry nodded in acknowledgment. "It was an easy decision; it's obvious you're not a threat to anyone."

"Except to you," Draco said with a smirk.

Harry smiled as Draco shifted to lie next to him once more. Harry reached down to clasp Draco's hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing.

"Are you sure I can't keep providing you with mind-blowing orgasms during my stay?"

Harry laughed aloud; sometimes Draco's cheeky sense of humour really took him by surprise. "Sorry, I really can't in good conscience expect the Ministry to pay me for having sex."

"The Ministry's whore," Draco smirked.

Harry chuckled. "I think I already have that title."

They both lay in silence for a moment, keeping their hands clasped together; Harry's thumb absently running over the warm skin of Draco's hand.

"Hey Draco?"

"Hmm…?"

Harry turned his head to look at the relaxed blond. "It's alright if I call you Draco now, right?" he asked before continuing with his train of thought.

Draco snorted. "Yes Potter," he replied deprecatingly.

" _Harry_ ," he reminded.

Draco merely rolled his eyes and Harry turned to look back up at the cobweb covered ceiling with a smile. He exhaled heavily, suddenly wondering if he even needed to mention what he was thinking.

"I'm waiting with baited breath here Potter."

Harry's hand was squeezed so he knew that Draco wasn't truly exasperated with his hesitation. "It's just…" He stopped and took a deep breath. "I've never done this before."

"Done what?"

"An actual relationship," Harry replied, still gazing at the ceiling. "I don't know if I'll be any good at it. In fact, I have a feeling I will be complete crap at it. I just thought I should warn you."

Draco turned his head to look at him. "It's not any different to having a great friendship - only you get each other off any time it catches your fancy."

Harry smiled a little then chewed his lip, avoiding Draco's gaze. "I've never er, done that before either," he mumbled.

Draco half sat up and stared down at Harry incredulously. "What are you saying? That you're a virgin?"

"Erm yeah," Harry replied, flushing under the scrutiny.

"But you've… done other things right?" Draco pressed.

Harry covered his eyes with one hand, his blush deepening. "Just a rather awkward hand-job once with a bloke who didn't know if he was gay or not."

Draco burst out laughing and collapsed back onto the bed, holding his stomach.

Harry glared and tried to will away his embarrassment.

"And was he?" Draco finally managed to ask, looking utterly delighted.

"Yes!" Harry snapped then paused. "At least, I assume so, I never saw him again and he seemed to like it."

Draco seemed to find this endlessly amusing and he continued to laugh while Harry patiently waited for him to stop. "Who was it?" he finally asked with a grin.

"Nobody you would know," Harry replied. "Just a random Ministry worker at the staff Christmas party… He was rather pissed at the time and I was rather, well, a virgin, so it just kind of… happened."

Draco dissolved into laughter once more and Harry just rolled his eyes.

"So _you're_ obviously not a virgin," Harry interjected grumpily.

Draco wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes and took a steadying breath before replying. "No, I'm not. Sharing a boy's dormitory for years will do that to you."

"I did too!" Harry pointed out.

"Gryffindor and Hufflepuff don't count," Draco countered with a smirk. He looked at Harry a moment then took him by surprise by rolling over to pin him to the bed beneath them. "Just be glad that I know what I'm doing Potter," he whispered huskily, gazing down into wide green eyes. "Merlin, you are so tempting Harry. Especially now that I know you're untouched."

Harry really didn't want to moan and melt into Draco's body like some sort of helpless horny virgin, but his body betrayed him and he gasped and immediately arched up.

Grey eyes ignited with heat and Draco leaned down to capture Harry's parted lips in a deep and torturously slow kiss.

Harry gave in for a moment, closing his eyes and returning the hungry kiss, but then he slid his hands to Draco's chest and pushed him back a little.

"We can't go any further than this," Harry warned, slightly breathless but firm.

Draco stared at him in disbelief. "Fuck, for a virgin you have some serious self-restraint Potter."

Harry just laughed and pulled him back down into another kiss.

 **. . . .**

Harry opened his eyes and tried to think of what was different in his sleep-muddled brain. He blinked a couple of times and two things became abundantly clear: he had slept through the night without a nightmare and without the aid of Dreamless Sleep, and, he was also currently wrapped in a pair of warm arms.

Harry smiled softly as Draco's breath blew out in little puffs against the back of his neck, the warm air creating a ripple of gooseflesh on his skin.

They'd talked - and snogged - for hours last night, and then drifted off to sleep together without really meaning to.

Harry couldn't believe that he hadn't had a nightmare; it was the first time in years that he'd had a decent night's sleep without the help of a potion. He snorted to himself at the thought that the solution all along was to just sleep with Malfoy. Not that they'd actually _slept_ together.

Harry squirmed a little at the thought and Draco's arms unconsciously tightened around him in his sleep.

He really really wanted to have sex with Draco, but he knew that he would regret it if they did it while Harry was supposed to be working. Harry swallowed, trying not to picture the two of them naked in bed; moaning, sweat glistening on pale limbs…

He quickly pushed those thoughts aside and tried to focus instead on the exciting prospect of a budding new relationship with Draco. He tried to imagine what it would be like to be out in the world with Draco on his arm. How was the Wizarding World going to react?

He frowned as he thought about the field day the newspapers were going to have with this. He just hoped Draco wouldn't decide that he wasn't worth all the trouble that their relationship would bring to his life.

It was then that Harry realised that he would need to tell Ron and Hermione as soon as possible. His closest friends deserved to hear it straight from him, without any sordid, media misinformation tainting the truth. He knew they were going to have a hard time accepting it either way.

Draco shifted then and grey eyes slowly blinked open, looking slightly bewildered.

Harry smiled at the sight of a sleepy confused Draco; it was so out of character and so freaking adorable. "Hey," he greeted softly.

Draco turned to look at him and Harry could see the memory of last night returning to the blond before Draco smiled and yawned, stretching his arms over his head. "Morning," he replied drowsily.

"Sleep well?"

"Yes, too well," he said as he turned onto his side facing towards Harry.

Harry smiled. "Yeah, me too. In fact, no potion and no nightmares for the first time in probably two years."

Draco smiled, looking genuinely pleased - and a little smug. "Is that because of me?"

"Perhaps." Harry shrugged. "The only way to truly find out I suppose is for us to keep sharing a bed."

Draco smirked. "Indeed."

"You're decidedly cheerful for someone who hasn't had their coffee yet Malfoy," Harry observed in amusement.

"A long overdue orgasm will do that to you," he replied facetiously.

Harry swallowed, suddenly remembering all too well the feel of Draco's hard body pressed against his own.

"In fact," Draco purred, grey eyes darkening at Harry's flushed expression, "it may be time for another…"

Harry didn't even try to resist.

 **. . . .**

The following Saturday, Harry was sitting on Hermione's soft suede sofa; hands twisting in his lap and palms decidedly sweaty.

"You alright Harry?" she asked as she set the tea tray down on the low table in front of him and poured out three cups. "You look tense."

Harry let out a nervous bark of laughter then immediately pressed his lips together. "Yeah, I'm fine, I just… have some news, I suppose."

Ron walked out of the kitchen then with a plate of his mother's biscuits and sat down beside Harry. He offered him one, which Harry gladly took to occupy his fidgeting hands, before sliding the plate onto the table.

Hermione passed around the tea before seating herself on the comfortable lounge chair across from them. "Okay, spill it Harry Potter."

"Does this have something to do with Jeremy?" Ron asked.

"Oh!" Hermione cried, brown eyes lighting up with excitement. "Yes, I almost forgot, you didn't tell me how it went. Is that what this is all about?"

"You're not engaged already or something, are you?" Ron asked worriedly.

It took a moment for Harry to even remember who Jeremy was - then immediately felt horrible. He'd completely forgotten about the other man in the wake of everything that had happened since that day.

And _so much_ had happened. Harry had been surprised by how comfortable and easy his relationship with Draco had felt right from the start. Their camaraderie had been undeniable; they made each other laugh, they began to talk about their past together and laid to rest the ghosts that had been haunting both of them since their final few years at Hogwarts. Draco was finally opening up about everything, including what he'd gone through since the final battle; how the Ministry had kept him trapped inside the Manor with only his mother for company, who he was in constant fear of losing to Azkaban. How he'd had to deal with his own nightmares and overwhelming feelings of guilt and regret.

It all only served to further cement Harry's decision to release Draco into society with no restrictions or limitations on his freedom. Draco had made a few bad decisions but he'd clearly paid for them all a dozen times over.

Harry shook his head and smiled a little at Ron's expression. "No, I'm not engaged Ron," he said.

Ron sighed in relief and took a bite of his biscuit. "Good, I thought you might've been a bit desperate since you hadn't had a proper date with a bloke, well, ever, right?"

"Thanks Ron," Harry said dryly.

"Merlin, you sounded just like Malfoy then," Ron replied, looking disturbed. "Mate, I think you've been spending too much time with that sarcastic git."

Harry hoped his laugh wasn't as shrill as it sounded in his ears.

"So what's this all about then Harry?" Hermione asked, tucking her legs up underneath her and balancing her teacup on her thigh.

Harry cleared his throat and looked down at the biscuit still clutched in his hands. "Well it's funny that you should mention Drac- er, Malfoy. He's actually really different to what you think, he… he's actually talking to me and it's kind of amazing how similar we are."

Ron gaped. "Similar? What the hell do you have in common with _Malfoy_?"

Harry could feel the heavy weight of Hermione's shrewd gaze on him and he avoided looking at her. "Erm, just some similar after-effects of the war and stuff."

"Like what?" Ron asked, still looking sceptical.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably; he'd never really talked about his bouts of depression or nightmares with Ron and Hermione before.

"Malfoy wasn't exactly fighting by our side at the Battle of Hogwarts," Ron said.

"Yeah, but he and his mother did some good, didn't they?" Harry pointed out, trying his best to not sound overly defensive. Now that he knew the real Draco, he knew how hard it had been for him, and he knew he would fight to defend Draco any chance he got.

"Yeah sure, anything to save their own skin."

Harry frowned. "They were pushed into a corner Ron. They were scared for their lives, and stuck having to live with decisions made by Lucius."

"And so now you suddenly think he's not anything like his prick of a father?" Ron asked in disbelief.

Harry forced down the anger. "No, he's not _anything_ like him."

"Harry?" Hermione interjected calmly. "How do you know he's not just pretending? I mean, Malfoy was always pretty good at hiding his feelings and, if he could become whoever his father wanted him to be, then couldn't he just as easily become who you and the Ministry want him to be?"

Harry was already shaking his head before she'd finished her sentence. "No, I can tell 'Mione, he's being completely real with me. The things he's told me…I obviously can't tell you exactly what he's saying but they're classic symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder."

Hermione narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "Classic as in you can read all about them in your textbooks Harry?"

Harry frowned. "Look-"

"Textbooks that you leave laying around all day and he has nothing better to do than read every book in your house?"

"Stop!" Harry shouted then took a deep breath. "Why can't you just take my word for it? Draco is not lying!"

"Draco?" Ron repeated while Hermione's eyes widened.

"Oh my god…" she quietly exclaimed.

Harry finally looked at her and couldn't seem to form any words as he watched comprehension dawn in her eyes.

"What?" Ron frowned in confusion, glancing between the two of them.

"Oh Harry, you… you haven't?" she said in trepidation.

Harry swallowed and held her gaze. He knew he couldn't look uncertain about this. "I have."

"Have _what_?" Ron demanded.

"Draco and I are together," Harry replied without preamble.

Ron laughed then trailed off into silence at the look on his best friend's face. "You've got to be kidding," he said faintly.

"And before you say anything Hermione," Harry said sharply, turning to her, "we haven't done anything inappropriate that would cause me to be in danger of losing my job."

He knew that might be a bit of a white lie, but there was no way he was telling Ron and Hermione that.

"But Harry," Ron said, still looking shell-shocked, "how can you trust him?"

"Because I've been around him for the last five months," Harry replied tersely.

"But didn't he treat you rather poorly for the first few months?" Hermione asked. "You were constantly fighting and he was acting like a prat. How could he suddenly change?"

"Of course we fought for a while," Harry answered. "You guys know how much bad blood is between us; that kind of built up animosity doesn't just fade away. We had to work through it, and we have. We get along really well now."

Ron and Hermione shared a look that made Harry grind his teeth.

"Harry look, it's not that we don't trust your judgment mate, it's just that…" Ron trailed off unsure.

"It's just that we know you crave a loving relationship in your life and we don't want you to just cling to Malfoy because he's the first one to offer it," Hermione finished for him.

"So you _don't_ trust my judgment, is what you're saying," Harry snapped irritably.

"Harry-"

"No look," he interrupted, holding up a hand to silence them. "I'm a big boy, I can make my own decisions, even if you don't always agree with them. I just need you to support me and to treat Draco with respect when you see him. If he's going to be a part of my life then you two have to accept that and move on."

Hermione bit her lip, looking at Harry with an almost pitying look that Harry tried his hardest to ignore.

"And does he… say that he cares for you?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied with a nod. "He… he cares about my health, he listens when I talk, he makes me laugh… He's good for me."

Hermione smiled a little and glanced at Ron once more. "Okay Harry, if you say Malfoy has changed and he treats you well, then I… I'll try to get to know him too."

Ron swallowed, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Yeah mate, if you're happy then we're happy. I guess."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at the expression on his friend's face. The tension in the room was immediately broken.

"You realise how fucking weird this is though, right Harry?" Ron said, a smile slowly stretching his lips.

Harry laughed and Hermione giggled into her teacup.

"Wait 'til you see us holding hands and snogging," Harry couldn't resist saying.

Ron's eyes widened and he looked like he was going to be sick. "I can't… I just can't picture it; Slytherin twat Malfoy and Harry…" He stopped and shook his head.

Harry grinned, trying to not feel _too_ offended. "Hey when I first realised I was attracted to him, it was a bit of a shock to me as well."

"So who made the first move?" Hermione asked slyly.

Harry blushed a little at the embarrassing memory. "I sort of accidentally started to make a move before I realised what I was doing and then I had to tell him the truth. He technically made the first move a few weeks later."

"What did he do?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, looking scandalised. "You want the details of Harry and _Malfoy_?"

"He kissed me," Harry supplied gleefully while Ron groaned and covered his ears with both hands.

Harry and Hermione laughed and Ron eventually joined in with an incredulous shake of his head.

Harry knew then that he was through the worst of it, now Draco just had to behave himself around them and they would accept him into their lives too.

 **. . . .**

Harry and Draco sat sprawled on the floor of the front room in Grimmauld Place, their backs resting against the sofa as they faced the crackling fire in the hearth. The heat from the fire was bathing them in warmth and creating a blissful feeling of lethargy.

They sat shoulder to shoulder, hands clasped together and resting on Draco's thigh as they stared into the fire.

"I can't believe it's your last night already," Harry murmured, breaking the silence.

Draco smiled a little, gaze still on the wavering flames of the fire.

"There's something I want to talk to you about," Harry continued solemnly.

Draco turned to look at him. "That sounds ominous."

Harry sighed, still staring into the fire. "I know we haven't really talked about what's going to happen after tonight except that we want to continue our relationship - and that hasn't changed for me," he quickly added, tearing his gaze from the fire to glance at Draco. "But I do think that you need some time away from here, and away from me, for a bit first."

Draco frowned. "What do you mean?"

Harry swallowed and pushed on. "I think you should take the next few weeks to just be free and do what you like; spend some time with your mother, settle on a career path, find a place to live, just… be free."

"And not see you?" Draco said, still frowning. "Why? And for how long?"

"I just want you to be sure of your feelings," Harry said. "It's… it's confusing being locked up in this house for six months with only me for company, and I want to give you the chance to really know whether you want to continue this or not once you're free."

Draco removed his hand from Harry's and turned to face him, clearly annoyed. "And you don't think I can make that decision right now? Are you saying I'm just with you because I'm lonely and you're the only male body nearby, so why the fuck not?"

Harry shook his head and remained calm, he knew when he'd thought up this plan that Draco would be insulted, but he needed for this to happen for his own peace of mind. "That's not what I'm saying," he replied. "You haven't been a free man since Hogwarts, and even then you were under the rule of your father."

"But you doubt my feelings for you? You think they're not real?"

"I don't-"

"You obviously do," Draco countered. "Or you wouldn't be suggesting this idiotic plan, and why do _you_ get to dictate our relationship? Don't I have a say in it?"

Harry smiled sadly. "No, not this time."

Draco glared. "I don't appreciate being tested Potter," he said and made to stand.

Harry grabbed onto his arm before he could get his feet under him and pulled him back down, then moved to kneel in front of him. "Draco don't," he pleaded quietly. "This is for you as much as it is for me, I wish you could see that. If you truly care for me then waiting a bit to resume our relationship is nothing, right?"

"How long?" he demanded shortly.

"A month."

Draco exhaled and shook his head, turning from Harry's gaze.

"When I said I don't doubt your feelings for me, I meant it," Harry continued earnestly. "But being with me brings its own set of complications. When you're released we don't know how people are going to react to you; if the general public will hold a grudge and treat you despicably or if they will just accept the fact that the Ministry has deemed you harmless. I don't want you thrown into that while openly dating me at the same time. I don't want our relationship to colour the public's perception of you. There's just so much that could go wrong and I don't want to be a burden on you before you've even begun to make your way in the world."

Draco sighed and seemed to calm down a little. "You're too righteous for your own good, you know that Potter?" he finally uttered in quiet defeat.

Harry smiled a little, relieved that Draco's anger had subsided. "I know."

"What about you?" the blond asked, looking back up with a slight crease of concern between his brows.

"You mean, how am I ever to survive without you for the next month?" Harry teased.

A ghost of Draco's trademark smirk pulled at the blond's lips. "I guess I'll just have to give you a night to remember so that you don't forget about me."

Harry smiled as Draco slid his arms around him and pulled him close. "There is no chance of that, believe me," Harry replied before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Draco's smirking mouth. He pulled back and looked into heated grey eyes. "I'm a virgin, remember? I'll be counting down the days until I see you again."

Draco chuckled against Harry's lips and kissed him. He pulled back and looked intently into emerald green eyes. "Promise me that you won't take Dreamless Sleep while I'm away. I won't be here to chase your nightmares away."

Harry swallowed and nodded. He hadn't really thought about how this was going to affect _him_ , he'd been so concerned about Draco that it had completely slipped his mind that he wouldn't have his own personal dreamcatcher here for a while.

"I promise," he assured him.

Draco nodded in approval before tugging Harry down to sit next to him once more, leaning back against the worn sofa and staring into the fire.

Harry laid his head on Draco's shoulder and they both reached for the other's hand at the same time. Harry smiled a little as they threaded their fingers together and held on.

"Don't ever repeat this, but… I think you may be right."

"Hmm?" Harry hummed questioningly. "What about?"

"I think I do need to go out on my own first," Draco replied contemplatively. "Sort out my life before inviting someone else into it."

Harry nodded, cheek still resting on Draco' shoulder. "I know."

"No need to be smug Potter."

Harry smiled. "Never."

They fell back into silence; each lost in their own thoughts.

Harry stared into the fire and thought about how much he was going to miss Draco. They hadn't been "together" for that long but the Slytherin had definitely managed to wiggle his way into Harry's heart and his daily routine. It was going to be hard to go back to being alone in the house, not to mention sleeping alone. The nights they'd spent together in Harry's bed had been so utterly perfect that it made Harry's heart ache to think about sleeping alone for the next month.

He hoped the next four weeks would go fast…

 **. . . .**

A month came and went without a word from Draco.

At first Harry was concerned for Draco's safety, that someone had indeed taken revenge on the ex-Death Eater, but then his Auror, Johannes, had mentioned in passing that he'd seen Malfoy in Diagon Alley doing some shopping over the weekend.

So Harry waited.

Another month went by and Harry finally had to accept the fact that Draco wasn't coming back. Harry felt heartbroken but also furious. Draco hadn't even sent an owl explaining his actions.

Perhaps Ron and Hermione had been right all along; perhaps Malfoy had just been playing Harry for a fool the whole time. Perhaps the Slytherin never had any real feelings for Harry at all, maybe he used Harry to get what he wanted and now he was done with him.

Two months and one day went by and Harry saw an article in the Prophet about Draco and his mother starting their own business in Diagon Alley.

Harry didn't bother to read what kind of business it was or wish to read about how the Malfoy's were redeeming their tarnished name, he simply scrunched up the paper and threw it into the fire before going upstairs to his room.

He couldn't stop the bitter depression he'd settled into with Draco's absence. He couldn't help thinking that once again life had shit all over him and what he wanted for himself. He had too much pride to seek Draco out and demand an explanation, and every letter he started just sounded pathetic and he immediately threw it away without sending it.

If Draco wanted to speak to him then he knew where to find him.

Trouble was, Harry thought morosely, it didn't appear as though Draco _wanted_ to speak to him.

Harry sat on the edge of his bed and frowned. He knew he was over-reacting; he just needed to get on with his life, get back to how it was before Malfoy, and then he would be fine.

He'd been ignoring all correspondence from Ron and Hermione because he was too embarrassed to tell them what had happened. He knew he would have to talk to them soon, he didn't want to worry them, but it was going to be such a hard conversation; 'I told you so' is a hard pill to swallow.

Harry sighed and rubbed tired eyes beneath his glasses. He hadn't been sleeping that well, especially ever since the first month mark had come and gone. He was back to his old habit of not sleeping and when he did sleep, he was afflicted with horrific nightmares.

Harry looked up and his gaze caught on his trunk, still sitting at the end of his bed. He narrowed his eyes as a fresh bout of anger boiled up within him.

He got to his feet and threw open the lid to look down on the dozens of shining potions bottles.

"Fuck you Malfoy," Harry ground out as he reached for one.


	7. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

Harry blinked open his eyes; feeling sick and groggy, a part of him wondering why he'd woken up when his body clearly wasn't ready yet. He reached for his glasses and knocked a couple of glass phials to the floor where they smashed into a million pieces.

Harry groaned and retracted his arm, curling back into a ball and closing his eyes. He was lying on top of the blankets and still wearing his rumpled clothes from yesterday.

He frowned in confusion when he heard a strange thumping noise. By the time he'd worked out that it was someone knocking on his front door the knocking had increased in frequency.

Harry moaned in irritation and pushed himself into a sitting position, legs dangling off the side of the bed. He wiped a hand over his face and snatched his glasses off the bedside table before stumbling to his feet and walking to the bedroom door, his trainers crunching on broken glass along the way.

He staggered his way down the stairs to the entrance foyer, unlocked the door and swung it open with an irritated scowl. "What?"

Hermione was standing there; scowling right back at him with arms crossed over her chest. "What is the matter with you?"

A flicker of guilt flashed across Harry's face as he took in her angry but concerned expression.

"Just because you're in a new relationship does not give you the right to ignore your friends and make them worry about you - and look at you!" she exclaimed, narrowing her eyes at the dark circles under his dull green eyes. "What is going on? Did Malfoy upset you?"

Harry couldn't help but smile a little at her expression; as though she was going to storm off to give Draco a piece of her mind - or perhaps punch him in the face. "No, well… yes I suppose he did but it's not…" He stopped, unsure of how to finish the sentence. Malfoy had behaved horribly yet he still somehow wanted to defend the prat.

Hermione uncrossed her arms with a sigh. "Can I come in?" she asked, anger somewhat abated by Harry's drawn expression. "I'll make tea."

Harry nodded and stepped aside to let his friend into the house. They made their way to the kitchen, which was looking rather neglected once more now that Draco wasn't around to keep things in order. Hermione ignored the discarded piles of take-away containers and set about making a pot of Earl Grey as Harry slumped into a chair and propped his head in one hand.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" he asked.

"Harry, it's five o'clock in the afternoon," she said, glancing at him over her shoulder with a raised brow.

"Is it?" Harry replied in bewilderment.

Hermione set the kettle on to boil then turned to face him, leaning back against the counter. "What's going on Harry?" she asked quietly. "Last time I spoke to you, you were quite happy."

Harry exhaled and looked away from her concerned brown eyes. "I was."

"And now?"

"And now…" he trailed off with a sigh, raising his eyes back to her face. "Now you can say I told you so."

"Why? What happened?" she asked quietly, coming to sit beside him.

"The short version is that I told him to take one month after his release to enjoy being free and decide what he wanted to do with his life. I thought it would complicate things to have his release also coincide with dating me, what with the media frenzy it would create, so… that was over two months ago and I haven't heard from him since." Harry swallowed and quickly shoved aside the wave of sadness that threatened to break over him.

Hermione frowned. "Two months? But…Malfoy wrote to Ron and I two weeks ago."

Harry blinked. "What do you mean he wrote to you? About what?"

"It was an apology, of sorts," she said. "He was kind of formal, but reading between the lines it basically said that he wanted to start over with the both of us because you mean a great deal to him."

Harry felt his heart give a hopeful lurch at her words but he quickly shook his head, frowning. "Then why hasn't he come to see me? He never even wrote… He just dropped off the face of the planet."

Hermione got up to fetch the kettle as it began to whistle behind them. "But he's coming over today, isn't he?"

"What?"

Hermione poured out the tea and returned to the table. "It was in that interview with him in the Daily Prophet, didn't you see it?"

"I saw the article but I didn't read it," Harry admitted, feeling as though a headache was building between his temples.

"The interviewer asked about his time spent with you and he said that you and he had become friends, and that he was in fact going to see you today."

"I don't understand…" Harry clutched his teacup as he struggled to make sense of everything.

"You and me both," Hermione replied with a confused frown. "Are you sure he didn't write to you?"

"I think I would know," Harry couldn't help snapping.

"You never thought to write to _him_ to find out what was going on?"

Harry ran a hand through his tangled hair. "Of course I did, but every time I started writing I just sounded so pathetic… And, if I'm completely honest, perhaps I didn't really want to hear him say that it was all a fucking lie."

Hermione shook her head. "I can't believe that after the letter I received from him," she said. "It just doesn't make sense."

Harry took a sip of his tea, feeling rather drained and world-weary all of a sudden.

"So what have you been doing with yourself for the past two months?" Hermione asked carefully.

Harry shrugged. "Nothing really."

"You haven't been in to The Centre at all?" Hermione replied in surprise.

"No, I went to the Ministry a couple of times to submit paperwork and did some grocery shopping…" he trailed off with another shrug of his shoulders.

Hermione surveyed him over the rim of her pale blue teacup. "I think you should go find Malfoy."

"What?"

"Yes." She nodded decisively. "Go find him and demand an answer. I just think there's been some sort of misunderstanding."

Harry shook his head in amusement. "I thought you'd be saying I told you so and encouraging me to move on."

Hermione gazed at him evenly. "You look awful Harry, which tells me that he means a great deal to you, probably more so than you're letting on, and I want you to be happy. If you're both just being thick then I truly do want you to work it out so that you can go back to being as cheery as you were the last time I saw you."

Harry smiled, touched by his friend's determination to ensure his happiness in life, even if it meant dating a man that she had once punched in the face.

"Alright I'll contact the git to see what's going on," he promised with a sigh.

"Good." Hermione squeezed his hand.

They then fell into easy conversation about everyday life and Hermione's job and Ron's current Auror cases until the entire pot of tea had been emptied.

As Hermione started to think about heading home, a knock echoed down the hall from the front door. They looked at each other and Harry felt his heart jump into his throat.

Hermione smiled at him reassuringly as she stood and slipped into her coat. "That'll be him."

Harry just swallowed and wordlessly followed her up the stairs towards the front door. He tried not to hope too much that Draco was standing on the other side in case he was sorely disappointed. He froze in the entranceway, unable to take the final few steps to the heavy wooden door to open it.

Hermione glanced at him with a sympathetic smile before deciding to open it for him.

Draco was standing on the doorstep, a sodden umbrella in one hand. His eyes widened slightly in surprise to see Hermione then they slid to Harry standing just behind her and a slight smile stretched his lips, grey eyes instantly warming.

Hermione couldn't help but smile in satisfaction upon seeing the blond's barely concealed affection for her best friend. "Hello Draco," she greeted politely. "I was just on my way out."

"Granger," he replied, tearing his eyes away from Harry to nod at her.

"Thanks for the letter," she said casually as she stepped past him and flipped up the hood on her coat to protect against the rain. "Bye Harry," she called over her shoulder as she walked off.

"Yeah, see you," Harry replied absently, gaze glued to Draco.

"May I come in?" Draco asked tentatively.

Harry nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak yet.

Draco stepped inside and propped his umbrella up in the corner before removing his coat and hanging it on one of the coat hooks that he had helped Harry install all those months ago.

Harry turned and walked into the front room. He lit the fire in the grate with a wave of his hand before perching stiffly on the edge of the sofa, watching Draco expectantly.

Draco sat next to him, a wary look in his eyes and a slight crease between his blond brows. "You never answered my letter," he finally began.

"What letter?" Harry replied, wanting to growl in frustration as he felt as though he was about to have another conversation that went round and round in circles and didn't make any sense.

Draco's frown deepened. "I sent you a letter explaining why I was going to be away a little longer than first anticipated, past our one month agreement."

"I never got it," Harry replied, feeling that little flicker of hope once more.

Draco's grey eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Have you been to the Centre since I left?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I… I haven't," he said, leaving it at that.

"You stayed here in this house for two months? Why?"

Harry flushed, feeling distinctly foolish - not to mention melodramatic. "I thought…"

Draco's lips suddenly twitched into a small smile, grey eyes unquestionably fond. "Because you thought I'd dumped your arse?"

"Don't let it go to your head," Harry mumbled and then looked up. "So… what did your letter say?"

Draco shifted closer and took Harry's hand. "It said that I didn't want you to ever second guess me so I was going to take exactly once month and two days _on top_ of your suggested one month. I was so busy setting up my business and the flat above the shop that it was probably a good move anyway." He paused and looked Harry in the eye. "I most certainly do not want to end our relationship Harry. I missed you a great deal and my feelings haven't changed at all since I left here. I still want you more than anything."

The butterflies in Harry's stomach went into overdrive then; Draco had never spoken so openly and heartfelt about his feelings for him before. It was such a relief that he hadn't wanted to end things, and now _this_ …

Harry smiled. "Well, that's good," he replied as though he heard things like that every day.

Draco chuckled and reached up one hand to stroke his thumb over Harry's cheek. "So I'm forgiven then?"

"Only if I am as well," Harry replied ruefully, reaching up to place his hand over-top of Draco's.

Draco smiled and pulled Harry in for a chaste kiss. "I'm guessing that you didn't read the paper yesterday either, that would've at least given you a clue," he said after pulling back.

Harry felt his body relax as the truth of the situation finally began to sink in. "I saw the article but I didn't read it," he replied.

Draco smirked as he leaned back against the sofa cushions. "It was mostly about the new business, but the interviewer also asked a few questions about my time spent with you."

"Oh?" Harry said with a raised brow.

Draco nodded. "Yes, I thought I'd get the ball rolling and said that we actually became quite good friends during my stay and that we will continue to see each other outside of treatment. I mentioned that I was seeing you today in the article, I thought that might remind you to clean up the house before I got here." He paused to glance around at the various take-away cartons littering the table and floor. "I see I was mistaken on that account."

Harry grinned and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Yeah sorry, I kind of fell into my old ways after a month of no Draco to keep me in line."

Draco's responding smile was tinged with sadness. "How long did you last before taking the potion?"

Harry dropped his gaze uncomfortably. "I held out until last night actually," he replied contritely, then lifted repentant green eyes back to Draco's face. "If only I'd read the article…"

Draco looked at him a moment before speaking. "Did the nightmares come back?"

Harry nodded wearily.

"I had a few as well," the blond admitted quietly. "It seems you keep mine at bay too."

Harry smiled a little. "Will you stay tonight?" he asked, unable to repress the hope in his voice.

Draco took a deep breath and exhaled. "Actually, I was wondering if perhaps you would like to stay at my new flat tonight?"

Harry's smile brightened. "Sure."

"What about on a permanent basis?" Draco added nervously.

Harry's smiled faded as his eyes widened in surprise. "You mean… move in with you?"

Draco nodded, holding his gaze. "If you like the place, that is. I just thought it might be good for the both of us to start over somewhere new. I know this place doesn't hold the best of memories for you, and since I obviously need to watch over you at night…" he trailed off as though the answer was obvious.

And to Harry it was.

"I would love to," he replied, then began to chuckle.

"What is it?" Draco asked, smiling at Harry's contagious amusement.

"I can't believe I was such a prat as to think that you just walked out and were never going to come back."

Draco smirked. "What, and miss the chance to be the one to take Harry Potter's virginity? _Never_."

Harry laughed then got to his feet, still grinning. "Well, let's see this new shop of yours - and the flat too of course."

Draco grabbed Harry's hand when he extended it and kept it firmly clasped in his own as they walked to the front door. Harry threw a coat on over his clothes and promptly took Draco's hand before they opened the door.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

At Draco's nod, the two stepped outside.


End file.
